Time Heals Most Wounds
by tantedrago
Summary: Part 4 of the The Time Travellers' Daughter Series. Myka, HG and their daughter share a peculiar connection to each other and the Warehouse. Not even Claudia or Mrs. F can tell what this means and what it will cause. Time passes, a certain incident slowly leads into a future Myka once has seen. But memory and reality compete, and soon, it gets hard to differentiate... Pregnancy fic
1. Prologue

**1. Welcome to the finale. Please remember I wrote this before I watched the season that shall not be named. Similarities are absolutely coincidental.**

**2. I'm not finished with my thesis but was told to reward myself with something I like because I do great work. So, happy you that I like to reward myself with stuff like this. Still busy. Roccesc, I still have your prompt in mind. I didn't forget you.**

**3. Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta of this part of the story.**

**4. Yes, this is a Bering and Wells fic. No worries. I think this one will make you very happy. **

* * *

**Prologue**

_"I know a lot about time travel... at least I thought I knew a lot about time travel. I thought that being able to look into the past with my time machine, memories, that they were the only possible form of time travel. And it seems that I was wrong. You proved me wrong, Myka. There are several ways of travelling through time. Apparently, you saw a possible future. You saw something that could be. I'm glad to know that there is something like this. But I don't want you to tell me about it, I don't want to know what you've seen, because... Myka, I'm currently struggling with not living in the past any longer, I'm learning to live in the present and to accept that I cannot change the past or blame anybody for it. Not even myself. And that I have a future. Whatever that might be. There is another form of time travel, and that's... that's the form of it I'd prefer, the one I want to explore myself. That form of time travel is living."_

* * *

2070

Agent Kyle Masters was about to call it the end of a really long day. He was exhausted, more than exhausted, actually. So all he was thinking about - while he was walking towards the door of his apartment - was getting out of his tuxedo, having a shower, grabbing a beer and then, eventually, going to bed.

His day has been strange. Annoyingly strange. And this was the best Masters could put it, because he couldn't explain at all what had happened. It has been that kind of strange where you start questioning your own sanity, and Masters has always felt like a pretty sane person. But today's mission... Well, Kyle was working for the Secret Service. And today's mission has been... strange. Yes, strange. That was still the right word to put it. Things had happened, and Kyle could not explain it differently. Things Kyle wouldn't have believed if somebody else had told him. Unfortunately, the agent witnessed them with his own eyes, which left him be the one who people didn't believe.

At first, a guy had showed up at the restaurant where Agent Masters was at his job: protecting the president who had had dinner in the restaurant. This guy was really tall, with a remarkable long neck, curly, grey-brownish hair, and most importantly: he had been wearing impressive, purple goggles. The other agents who worked with Kyle hadn't really noticed his appearance, but Masters had spotted him immediately and followed him into the kitchen.

Secretly observing the stranger, Kyle had witnessed how that guy shot the people in the kitchen with some sort of electrocution device, and then covered a certain plate in the kitchen with something Agent Masters would describe as... yeah, 'purple goo'. The effect became perceptible immediately. There had been a really bright light that blinded Kyle, and then, he had become unconscious. When Masters had waken up again, everyone in the kitchen was back at work - as though nothing had happened. And that stranger had been gone. Completely vanished without a trace.

Kyle had reported that incident immediately to his supervisor, only to get accused of being drunk - which he clearly and surely wasn't. Of course not.

They had sent him home, but before he could have been gone, a mysteriously looking woman had appeared in the restaurant as well. She had talked to nobody. Instead she had just headed directly towards Kyle - he had noticed immediately that she needed the help of a cane to walk - to take one of her gloves off and shake his hand. She had looked him directly into the eyes with her mesmerising green ones, smiling and greeting him with a "It's an honour to meet you, Mr. Masters." And after that, she had vanished into the crowd that had surrounded them.

Kyle had a bad feeling about this, but he couldn't put his finger on it. So he had just gone home, and now, he was carefully opening the door of his apartment.

When Masters entered his kitchen, he heard a quiet thud. It sounded like wood was meeting wood, but as though somebody was trying to be very silent... like the noise of a cane colliding with the wood of his apartment's floor right behind him.

Agent Masters immediately pulled out his gun and spun on his heels. There, a few feet in front of him, was the same woman he had met earlier, but this time, she wasn't smiling at all. Strictly, she said:

"I would highly recommend to lower and put away that gun, Agent Masters." Her head was tilted slightly, she was raising an eyebrow at him.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Masters hissed, not lowering his gun and not putting it away. Definitely not! This woman had intruded his apartment. Why on earth would he...?

"I can assure you, Agent Masters, that my intentions are good. But I refuse to talk to you while you are pointing a weapon at me." She paused, then she continued slowly: "You wouldn't shoot an old lady. Not again, Agent Masters, right?"

The agent's eyes widened while he stared at her with his gun still raised. How could she know? This part of his life had been taken care of by the secret service. Masters was a good agent and his bosses had been sure he deserved a second chance. How could she know if she wasn't part of the...?

Kyle regarded that woman carefully. She was older than him, far older than him. Maybe around 50, not old enough for being called an elderly lady. Masters noted that she must have been really attractive when she had been younger, maybe still was. As far as he could judge in the dim light that the street lamps brought into his kitchen, she had bright green eyes and curly, dark hair with a multitude of grey strains in it. The strange woman was leaning on her cane, still glaring strictly at him. "Agent Masters." She repeated with a tone of voice that suggested he would be better off with putting away his gun.

Well, Kyle Masters was intrigued about what this woman wanted in his kitchen. And also-

"How did you come in?" He asked warily, lowering his gun ever so slowly and eventually putting it back to his belt.

"Through the door." The woman replied with both her eyebrows raised. Kyle couldn't tell why, but he had the feeling that she wasn't telling the truth. Something seemed to be off about her.

When his gun was stored away, the stranger took a few steps towards him, her cane causing those typical thuds on his wooden floor. The woman's face was unreadable. But Kyle could see she was watching his face thoroughly.

"What are you doing in my apartment?" He demanded, narrowing his eyes at her. His right hand was resting on the handle of his gun. Masters was suspicious - for a reason.

The woman froze, tilting her head as though she was genuinely interested in his question. "I'm going to," she spoke slowly, as though she was trying to give her words a really strong emphasis, "invite you to a new world."

Masters blinked, confused. He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Maybe she was just an senile old lady. So the agent shrugged helplessly. "What kind of world?"

Now, there was a smile appearing on the older woman's face. Briefly, less than a slight curl of the corner of her mouth, but Masters had noticed it. He was actually good at noticing things other people wouldn't spot. This was why he had become a secret service agent.

"A world of endless wonder, Agent Masters." The stranger replied, her voice full with this smug undertone Kyle didn't understand.

"What?" He asked now, completely bewildered. Yes, that woman seemed to be crazy. "Who are you?" The agent asked quickly, pondering a way to get her out of his apartment or to call the police without having her notice it.

"My name," The woman sighed while taking a step closer to him. _Thud._ The noise of her cane on the floor. "is Sarah Bering-Wells." She made another pause for effect. "Miss Bering-Wells for you."

"Miss Bering-Wells?" Kyle repeated and smiled a little bit. A woman of her age... "So there is no Mr. Bering-Wells?"

In reaction to his words, the stranger glared at him as though he was the crazy one. There was also a hint of annoyance in her eyes, before she replied: "I assure you, Agent Masters. There is someone who would fit that description. You will find out during your first medical exam for my agency."

"Your agency? What kind of agency?" Kyle's eyes widened in understanding. "Wait, is this some kind of warped job offer?"

"You can see it as one." Miss Bering-Wells tilted her head quickly, as though she was suggesting someone to attack him. Masters actually jumped when - out of nowhere - a broad and tall man appeared - and Kyle couldn't describe it any different - and reached out a hand with a paper. "How good is your Chinese?" The strange woman asked while Kyle stared at the new man in horror. "I... I... can order chinese food." He suggested, eyeing that man nervously. He looked like a bodyguard to Masters.

"Well." Miss Bering-Wells shrugged. "You should work on that. Your flight to China leaves tomorrow at 8 am. I highly recommend packing. Only the bare necessities. Everything else will be ship-"

"Wait!" Kyle interrupted her and looked from the bodyguard to the letter he was holding and then to the strange woman. She didn't look happy about being interrupted. "Wait. I'm going to China? What? What is this? Some kind of sick joke?"

Miss Bering-Wells looked at her bodyguard. "Tom, do I look like a... 'sick joke'?" She asked, sounding genuinely interested. The other man immediately shook his head. "No, Ma'am.", - came a quick reply. The woman looked at Masters with a 'told you so' facial expression.

"I would recommend reading that letter, Agent Masters." Miss Bering-Wells said now, taking another step into his direction, accompanied by the thud of her cane. "You will be working for me. Warehouse 14. This is my facility. My house."

Slowly, Agent Masters took the letter out of that strange man's hand to open it. While he read over the first lines of his transfer letter, his face completely blank, the older woman continued. "Your flight to China will take off at 8am tomorrow. You will report upon your arrival to Agent Bering-Wells af-"

"Wait." Kyle interrupted her again. Miss Bering-Wells looked annoyed. "Agent Bering-Wells? Are you..." He snorted. "I don't know... somehow related to them?"

"Well, Agent Masters. Agent Paul Bering-Wells will be your boss." Miss Bering-Wells said strictly. "Just as me. And to satisfy your personal interest, even though I think it's none of your concern: he is my brother."

Agent Masters blinked a few times and then grinned. "Wait, so... your husband... or boyfriend is working in the medical department of your facility. Your brother is an Agent, probably under you, since you're doing the job offers." Kyle smirked. "What is this? Some sort of family business?"

Sarah Bering-Wells regarded the agent thoroughly. She took her time doing it, Kyle could watch the muscles on her jaw working while she seemed to be searching for an answer. Then she smiled, ever so slightly, but it was definitely a smile. "Well, Agent Masters." She whispered, cleared her throat and then spoke louder: "You could put it that way."


	2. Part 1 - Chapter 1

**Part I: We're allowed to be afraid.**

**Chapter 1**

Two years earlier

Leaning on her cane, Sarah Bering-Wells stood in front of a shelf in aisle A113 in Warehouse 13. She was looking at a certain object on this shelf - the only object on this shelf: a wrist watch. The watch was old and broken, its backside bent, the glass in the front missing completely.

Sarah smiled. She recognised the watch and its current state of destruction. She had done this to the watch that once had belonged to her mother. A present by Adelaide. Although the future Caretaker of Warehouse 14 didn't know if that memory of destroying the watch and putting it into this shelf afterwards was really hers or even a real one, it was in her head, no matter of what time travel had done to the story of her own life...

And currently, Sarah didn't care. Not anymore.

Sarah Bering-Wells was old, she needed a cane to walk. After that incident with Kurt Parker twenty four years ago, she had needed several surgeries on her leg, but it had never gotten back to the state it had been in before that stalker had broken it.

Sarah was using a walking cane since she was 45 years old. And it was okay for her.

The watch. The old woman looked at it, biting her lower lip in thought, before she reached out her gloved hand to carefully pick it up from the shelf.

"A souvenir?" A familiar voice asked right next to her. Sarah spun around to look at her mentor. Claudia kept dying her hair and had her usual slighty punkrock way of clothing, but currently, both women looked like they were the same age. Even though Claudia was the older one. Far older than Sarah. They had this... commitment about their age. And now it was on Sarah to take over the world of endless wonder.

"I'd call it an upgrade, Claudia." The younger woman replied enigmatically, winked, and then put the watch into a neutralisation bag to store it away in her purse. She still looked at Claudia, smiling at the dawning realisation on the Caretaker's face.

"Take a walk with me?" Sarah suggested, shifting on her cane as she headed towards Artie's office. Claudia nodded, walking next to the dark-haired woman. "An upgrade?" The redhead wondered, sounding genuinely interested. "You mean you will take the watch with you?" Claudia blinked a few times. "What will it do, then? Make you the time-travelling Caretaker?" And here, Sarah could hear a hint of fear in the other woman's voice. It was a slight undertone that came with the caretaker's question. Almost imperceptible. Almost. "Because that's some serious and dangerou-"

Sarah shot a side-eyed glance at her, her right eyebrow raised in a perfect arch. "You do know that the Warehouse would never do anything harmful to us, especially not to me, Claudia. We learned that. Over the years." The future Caretaker of Warehouse 14 smirked and then turned her head to the direction she was walking into. For the smallest part of a second, she closed her eyes, sensing a familiar scent again. She had smelled it so often: Apples. But it was weak and heavy, nothing like Sarah knew it from old days. She knew it wasn't like this because she got used to it over time. It was because the entity that was causing it - Warehouse 13 - was dying. Everything came to an end. Not all wonder was endless. But sometimes, the end of something old meant the beginning of something new... like right now. What Claudia and Sarah were about to do hadn't been done for more than a century, so they had no one to ask how to do it. It was exciting and frightening at the same time.

"I-" Claudia bowed her head. "Yeah, you're right. But we're struggling with this for about fifty years now, it made me anxious. Always, Sarah. After all, you're like my little sister and I don't want you to get harmed."

Sarah stopped immediately and looked at her mentor, smiling fondly. She placed her hand on Claudia's shoulder and nodded while looking into the older woman's eyes. "Thank you." She whispered softly. "Your concern is apprecitated, but unnecessary." The future Caretaker of Warehouse 14 cleared her throat once, before continuing. "After everything that has happened I know I can trust the Warehouse. It took me a while to understand, Claudia. And I still don't know what I am supposed to do." Sarah's gaze rested on the tip of Claudia's boots before she looked into her friend's brown eyes again. "But I trust Warehouse 13 and you can trust me with this. I'm certain everything will be alright. I talked a lot to Adelaide... I mean all the Regents about this."

Claudia swallowed thickly before she sighed. "It's dying." She whispered, her voice heavy with tears. "I cannot reach it anymore. Leena's gone-"

"And she will be waiting for you wherever you will need her." The dark-haired woman assured her. "But you're not supposed to look for her."

The redhead held Sarah's gaze for a few seconds, then she nodded. "When did we swap roles and you became the mentor and I the student? I'm pretty sure I didn't sign up for hearing you speak in riddles."

Her student chuckled. "Payback's a bitch, Claudia." Then, she reached out her hand for the old Caretaker. "I think we're ready. Let's go then."

On the gallery in front of the Warehouse aisles, both women stopped to take a last long-lasting look at the old and empty Warehouse. The artifacts had already been transferred to China, and all the remained was just a big and empty hall full of shelves and memories. Sarah smiled sadly. She could hear Claudia sniff but didn't look at the redhead. This was a moment of silence. The last look at the endless wonder they had witnessed here.

"It's not the end." Sarah breathed, her gaze resting on the shelves and aisles that had been her home for all her life.

* * *

The procedure to disconnect Claudia from Warehouse 13 wasn't a complicated one. It was harder to store the Warehouse's last breath in Sarah. The writer was supposed to bring it to China, where the new Warehouse had been built. Julia, the head of the medical department of the Warehouse was performing the ritual on both women, Sarah and Claudia. She gently bound the green ribbon around both women's forearms to link them. While Sarah felt how the remaining energy of Warehouse 13 slowly left Claudia's body to settle in her own, she looked at Julia, who had her eyebrows in a tight knit while working. The medical doctor looked up, blushing when she caught the dark-haired woman's gaze. Sarah smirked.

"Ah come on!" Claudia grunted into the empty air of Artie's office. "Go get yourself a room, ladies. These are the final minutes of Warehouse 13 and you two are all flirty eyes. Like mothers like daughter, Sarah." The caretaker shifted nervously without moving her arm away from the younger woman. The energy flow seemed to stop.

"Hold still." Julia grunted at her, tightening the ribbon around the caretaker's arm. "And mind your own business." Claudia sighed deeply. "It feels odd." She whispered, pursing her lips. "And I'm afraid." Sarah looked at her, surprised. "Of what?"

"Being alone with my thoughts?" Claudia suggested, shrugging. "I haven't been left alone with them for about sixty years now. What if I don't like my own thoughts anymore? I mean... the last time I've been alone with my own thoughts I was in my twenties? What if my brain cannot handle the old lady I've become? What if I will not-"

Sarah shook her head and interrupted the redhead with a quick move of her cane-holding hand. "Claudia. You are one of the wisest women I have ever met. And I'm sure it was always you and never the Warehouse. I know the Warehouse and I know you. You're two different people."

Claudia sighed deeply before considering Sarah's words. "So." She grumbled. "What you're saying is that I'm being silly?"

"No. You're being Claudia." Sarah smirked and looked into the older woman's eyes. The time traveller drew a deep breath and then smiled. "The death of Warehouse 13 won't be the end of your story or of anyone else's story. Just the end of Warehouse 13. The beginning of Warehouse 14. But nothing much will change, only the number and the caretaker." She giggled quietly. "And the fact that we will all live in China instead of South Dakota. You will become a Regent, just like Adelaide suggested it. And you will kick their asses just like she does."

Claudia smiled.

"And Leena will be always with you." Sarah mentioned, before opening her tied hand. "But now, you have to do that step with me."

"It took Mrs. F so long to connect me to that thing." Claudia smirked. "And now it takes a whole "Sarah Bering-Wells: famous writer" speech to encourage me to let it go, right?"

Julia chuckled as she watched the caretaker taking Sarah's hand. The energy flow started again, the ribbon shone brightly. The dark-haired woman carefully opened her purse with her other hand to get out the golden wrist watch. The medical doctor's eyes widened. "Sarah." She whispered, not drawing her gaze away from the object.

Without a word, Sarah closed the watches's band around her wrist, right above the ribbon. The watch and the ribbon shone brightly now. "It's an upgrade." The writer whispered, nodding encouragingly. "I talked to the Regents, don't worry."

And with that, the last breath of Warehouse 13 was stored in the green ribbon tied on Sarah's and Claudia's arm. It then floated towards the dark-haired woman, settling in her body. Sarah sighed. The watch had connected to the ribbon and to Sarah, not revealing its power. Yet, Sarah thought.

Claudia had closed her eyes during the procedure and was now opening them carefully. She swayed a little, Julia supported her immediately. "How do you both feel?', The physician demanded in her business-as-usual tone of voice. But after all those years, Sarah knew by her tone of voice that she was worried. A lot, actually. Claudia looked like she was in pain but forced out a smile. "I forgot how awesome my brain is." She murmured and then winked at the physician.

They both looked at Sarah, who stared mesmerisingly at the green ribbon. Hesitantly, the writer reached out a hand to remove the ribbon from the former Caretaker's arm and wrap the loose ends around her own. Former Caretaker, Sarah thought while rolling her sleeve down to hide the ribbon and the watch. That was the last step. And now Warehouse 13's time is over.

_It's alright, darling. _She heard a familiar voice inside her head, but quickly got rid off it by shaking her head forcefully. _I already said goodbye, _she thought._ I did it so often and I cannot bear hearing her voice during your end._

"It's time." Sarah proclaimed, turning on her heels and walking out of the room with the help of her cane. She stopped when she realised that the other women weren't following her. Confused, the brunette turned around, finding Julia packing her things slower than necessary and Claudia gazing up to the ceiling. "Thank you for everything, Warehouse 13.", - the redhead whispered, before turning away to follow Sarah. Claudia's eyes were filled with tears.

And as Sarah met them, she's finally started crying...

* * *

The flight to China had been uncomfortable. Sarah remembered that her mother had always been complaining about the small space in-between plane seats and obviously, flying companies didn't decide to make it any better in the last fifty years. So while she was sharing her limousine to Warehouse 14 with Claudia and Julia, the future Caretaker had held her legs stretched out, sighing happily.

Opening the limousine's door, Sarah took a long look at the huge building in front of her. Warehouse 14 didn't look that much special or different from Warehouse 13. It was a huge building, hidden in a forest which Sarah knew was holographic - to hide the immense measures of Warehouse 14. Julia and Claudia joined the writer, gazing up to the building's roof. A raven was sitting on top of it. Sarah grinned. So this had already been done.

"Looks totally inviting." Julia smirked, earning a light punch from the former caretaker at her shoulder. "What? I did also say that about the old one when I was introduced to it."

The small door in the front of the building opened, admitting Paul Bering-Wells into the space in front of the Warehouse. He immediately headed towards his sister, who had started walking towards the door. "Ferret!" He greeted her, ducking from her cane she was trying to hit him with, aiming for his face. "I'm your boss, now, Paul! Your boss! Stop it with the nicknames!"

"I love you, too." He laughed loudly before wrapping his arms around her to lift her from the ground while turning them around.

"Idiot!" She protested. "I'm an old lady!"

"Accident!" He replied loudly and dropped her to the ground. This time, she actually hit him with her stick. He grunted in pain.

"Are you two done being children now?" Julia asked carefully, letting them hear her annoyance. "I don't want to perform any more medical exams on you two than already needed."

"I don't believe a word." Paul gave back, pointing at his sister. "You two are-" He ducked once more to avoid his sister's cane.

She looked at him very seriously. Her brother swallowed and then turned back to the Warehouse. "So everything is set up. The light is turned on, the computers are running, the Dark Vault has tried to kill me already. All we need are a few new agents added to the old ones." He explained, earning a nod from her. "How is mom? You said you wanted to stop at the new B&B before coming here. Haven't seen her in two days."

Sarah snorted. "She and Pete are sitting on the porch and I actually witnessed her hitting him with the Order of the Phoenix, yelling 'I cannot believe my son married your daughter.' She will never be over it, Paul." The older sibling looked at the younger one with her lips pressed together. Paul smiled brightly. "I will never be over it, Sarah." He blinked, then he continued. "So are they still making bets on who will outlive whom? They did this when I passed by two days ago. Then, I had to work."

Paul opened the door for the three newly arrived women. They entered a long red tunnel - Paul's design - before entering the agent's new office. It was already as messy as his old one. The man immediately flopped himself in a chair and sighed happily while putting his feet on a desk. Sarah grunted in disapproval and he jolted up again. "What I wanted to say," He began, heading towards a door. He slowly opened it to let his new guests through. "Is 'Welcome to Warehouse 14'."

Shelves. A huge hall. More shelves. Sarah recognised artifacts. There were no new ones, - they hadn't had the time yet to collect them. But this was Warehouse 14. Their new home. It didn't feel as much like home as the old one, but its future Caretaker was sure it would soon. Hopefully.

_Apples_, a familiar voice suddenly whispered right into Sarah's ear. The dark-haired woman immediately turned her head to look at the person behind her, but there was no one. Julia and Claudia were standing on Sarah's right side and Paul was leaning on the banister to her left._ I still smell apples. _The other ear, the same voice. The dark haired woman was sure she could feel somebody's warm breath on her neck, but there was no source for that or the voice. At least Sarah couldn't see anybody, when she turned her head._ The Warehouse still likes me._

Sarah didn't dare to call out her mother's name. She closed her eyes, sucking in the air audibly. She leaned harder onto her cane, being certain she needed the support.

"Is everything alright?" Julia's concerned voice. Sarah opened her eyes to meet blue ones.

"Yes." She assured her, nodding profusely. "I think it's time to connect me. I feel rather impatient."

"To the Eldunari, then!" Paul exclaimed, taking the lead. The others followed him closely.

The Eldunari was silent. No light was there, yet. It didn't look like anything Sarah knew from Warehouse 13. Well, it hadn't been activated yet, had it? Eyeing the big pedestal in the middle of the room, Sarah rolled up her sleeve. It was on Julia to take the loose ends of the ribbon that was still tied around the future Caretaker's forearm and connect them to the pedestal. The ribbon and the watch glowed mysteriously. Sarah swallowed, before she felt how the energy in her arm started flowing and growing.

"Are you ready?" Julia asked carefully, earning an eager nod from the writer. "Finally. Eventually." Sarah whispered, feeling Claudia's hand on her shoulder.

"You will feel home." The redhead spoke slowly, quoting Mrs. Frederic. "There is no need to be afraid. You are safe with us and you are safe with the Warehouse."

Sarah swallowed thickly. "I know." She breathed, closing her eyes. "I always knew."

The connection Sarah had always shared with Warehouse 13 was lost when the old building died. But there was something in her. Something that had been stored in her when they had disconnected Claudia from the old Warehouse. And now it was only growing.

_And you took care for me after you realised that I have this special connection to the Warehouse, Claudia. That I could become your successor as a Caretaker for the Warehouse._

Sarah gasped. She had heard her own voice. She recognised the words, she remembered saying them during a day that had never happened. The writer wanted to open her eyes and look at the others to find out if they had heard it, too. But she couldn't. Suddenly, her heart started racing.

"Sarah?" Julia seemed to be concerned.

_You told us that you couldn't change your past. But your future is something you decide about yourself. It's not set in stone. Everything about your future is your decision. Me and Sarah are just a possible outcome of your decisions, but - and although saying this hurts so much - you can decide to not have this future, if you want._ Myka's voice. Loud and clear and everywhere around her. Sarah turned her head, trying to find its source. But she couldn't. She was still desperately trying to open her eyes, failing.

_Involved in your creation?_ Claudia's voice, Sarah was sure of it. "Claudia? What's going on?" She forced out, coughing by the pressure on her chest. A rushing noise in her own head made it hard to hear the others in the room. Instead of a proper reply, there was the former Caretaker's voice rising again, loud and clear and frightening._ Does that mean you're literally the daughter of H.G. and Myka?_

Sarah coughed again. She didn't have problems breathing but she felt like the air was vanishing around her. Like it wasn't there anymore... no, like she was vanishing. Again, the writer tried to open her eyes. This time, she succeeded but the world seemed blurry and unreal to her. There was a distinct stain of blond hair, Julia's hair. She could feel the medical doctor grip onto her arm, supporting her, before her eyes closed again by their own volition. "She's collapsing!" Julia yelled, horrified. Sarah wanted to reply something, to assure her she was alright but also tell her that she was afraid. That something was off. Something was not okay and not like it was supposed to happen.

_Sometimes, Arthur._ Mrs. Frederic's voice cut through the air and through Sarah's ears like a blade. There was a woman crying, Sarah had to listen to the sound for a while before realising it was her own voice. It didn't sound real. It sounded like somebody had turned on an old radio in the distance which was playing her own voice as a program. _Sometimes the Warehouse makes its own decisions. _The old caretaker's voice was interrupting Sarah's desperate one which was screaming for something or someone to reach her.

"Mrs. Frederic?" Sarah yelled but didn't get a reply. She felt lost.

_I just want to help you, Helena. You need to recover, that's a valid need. An utterly valid need. And I want to help you with that_. - "She did!" Sarah growled at Myka's voice. The voices were not around her. They were in her head! But she couldn't tell why. "She did recover. She was well in the end. We did help-"

A bright light shone through the lids of the writer's eyes, blinding her. How could one get blinded by a light when one had their eyes closed? "Julia." Sarah whispered, reaching out a hand. Her other one was clutching her cane tightly, like it could steady her in that feeling of vanishing. "Sarah." She heard the other woman's voice and felt the touch of her hands. "What is happening?"

"I don't know." The writer replied, sobbing. There were tears on her cheeks. "I don't know."

"Concentrate, Sarah.", came Claudia's whisper. "You're afraid. You don't need to be afraid."

"How can one not be afraid of this?" Sarah's own voice asked. She couldn't remember to have spoken right here and now.

_Do you really think I don't know that there is a reason you've created me? Do you really think I don't know you did that on a purpose beyond wanting to grow my parents closer to each other and to you?_ Sarah heard her own voice hiss. She remembered saying those words a long time ago. It became clearer. There were voices in her mind. She was blinded by a light in her head. This wasn't real...

_Everything is alright, darling. _That familiar voice whispered and Sarah longed to believe what it was saying.

"There is a reason!" Sarah grunted. "I know the reason. I just don't know what to do. The purpose. I am supposed to take care of Warehouse 14, that I understand. But not the mystery that comes with it."

_Well, then. _The voice whispered. _Let's find out._

Sarah Bering-Wells opened her eyes, finding the blue of Julia's again. The medical doctor was resting her hands on the writer's cheeks. She was gazing deeply into Sarah's eyes, her eyebrows tightened in a concerned knit. "Sarah, stay strong." She whispered, sounding absolutely helpless.

And then, the bright light flooded the dark-haired woman's eyes and mind.

* * *

Pictures. Pictures and pictures in Sarah's head. Racing pictures, like an old VCR that was on fast forward. Sarah couldn't stop them from appearing and vanishing randomly. But quickly, she found a pattern in those pictures. It was the video of her own life, her own story.

And now, the Caretaker understood what was happening... It got clearer and by watching those pictures, scenes... those parts of her life, Sarah's fear faded away.

Sarah was a writer. She knew that there was always the danger of messing up stories by not telling them properly. She was also a time traveller which meant she had taken a figurative pen and had erased parts of her own story to add new ones, twisting and tearing the timeline. Her own story was a messy twirl of those timelines, meeting, parting. Who would ever understand them?

She?

The golden wrist watch had been part of her life, allowing her to change her parents' past and her mother's future. The outcome was her life. Memories...

Memories Sarah was seeing in her head.

Slowly, the new Caretaker opened her eyes, fighting against the blindingly bright light. A room was forming right around her. It took her a while but blinking repeatedly, Sarah recognised one of the bathrooms in the old B&B. The writer leaned on the edge of the bath tub, trying to adjust herself to the new situation. How did she get here?

There was a noise from the floor of the room. Somebody was coughing. Quickly, Sarah reached out for her cane, but just grabbed the empty space. There was no cane. There was also no need for a cane as the time traveller found out a few seconds later, when she slowly stood up. Her leg wasn't hurting. Her ankle worked just like a healthy one. Sarah smiled, realising that this situation was not real. She wasn't really here. She was able to walk without a cane just like she was able to do it when she was talking to a memory in the Warehouse. A guide.

This was a memory, Sarah concluded. And by looking down at the petite figure lying on the ground of the bathroom, Sarah realised whose memory this might be. She wasn't sure why she was seeing other people's memory, now that she was linked to the new Warehouse, or how she was seeing them in her own head. But surely, it had a reason. Certainly, Sarah was here to learn.

Helena looked much younger than Sarah knew her. The Victorian wasn't moving, just lying there and staring at the bathroom wall. Her chest rose and fell, and she blinked slowly, so Sarah knew she was alive and... well, time was running normally, if you could put it that way when you were trapped in another person's memory.

The Caretaker of Warehouse 14 still didn't know what was happening. For some reason, she was watching the memory of her much younger mother. Crouching right next to her, the time traveller smiled. She didn't know what day she was exactly watching, but she recognised that this was happening years before her birth. Her mother seemed to be in her thirties. Carefully, Sarah reached out a hand to touch the Victorian's forehead, but she realised that she couldn't touch her. Sarah's fingertips only slid through her mother's skin as though she wasn't there. And... to be realistic, Sarah truly wasn't, was she? Not yet.

This was a memory.

Sarah was a writer.

Her own story was a mess of time travel and artifacts.

But she knew how it had begun. How and when the first stone of her existence had been laid. Her mothers had told her. And maybe, she was about to find out herself...

_The one who will see..._

* * *

**So, this is where we will start. It is indeed a Bering and Wells fic. Trust me. ;)  
Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta.  
**


	3. Chapter 2

**Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta. :)**

* * *

2015

Helena lay still on the floor of her bathroom. She just lay there staring at the bathroom wall, and that was all. Abigail had mentioned that feelings like these were normal, - feeling numb and tired. Even though Helena was doing her job properly, even though she loved Myka and was happy with her... sometimes HG just needed to lie here and look at the wall. She emptied her mind out, she thought about nothing, she didn't move. Like back in bronze. Her therapist told her that this was her way of punishing herself. Other people did that with distracting themselves or thinking about literally nothing so their minds didn't drift into facing their issues.

Helena's mind needed to work, she needed to think, she needed to talk - to Myka or anybody. But sometimes it hurt so much that she denied herself this progress and gave in into the feeling of emptiness and numbness.

This time, it had happened in the bathroom. She didn't know why, but suddenly, she found herself lying on the bathroom rug, her fingers clutching it tightly. And then her mind was blank. Punishing herself was a step back in her recovery, she knew that. Lying here in the bathroom where she assumed nobody would find her that easily was like hiding. Like running from herself.

But when one was that used to doing it, in pretending to be somebody else than she was... how easy would it be to stop it?

It was frustrating. Helena had Myka. _She had Myka to help her. _Myka trusted her. The American showed this to her every day, and still...

The door opened abruptly and Helena craned her neck to look at the person who had entered her fortress of solitude and self-punishment.

Pete gaped at her for a few seconds. He was holding his hands up, both of them covered in liquid chocolate. "Oh." He blurted out quietly and blinked at her, his mouth opening and closing again. Then, he nodded. "I will be gone in a few, I just had... this..." His eyes darted to his chocolate-covered hands, "...accident and since Claudia is currently having her Caretakers only relax time in the bath tub, I thought I could..." He shrugged and went over to the sink. "Just ignore me and I will forget what I've seen."

The noise of running water reached Helena's ears. Pete was using the soap excessively while looking at everything else but her. He stood next to her feet, carefully watching out to not touch her with his own. The Victorian on the ground sighed loudly which caused him to wash his hands faster. "Damn chocolate..." He murmured, thoroughly rubbing the spot between his thumb and index finger.

"Will it ever stop?" Helena suddenly asked, her voice breaking.

Pete paused his motion to get rid off the chocolate and looked at her. "What?" He inquired carefully.

"This... this need to... I don't know." She looked from the bathroom wall to him. "To run? I thought since you were..." The writer shook her head and looked back at the wall again.

"Ah." He replied and pursed his lips. "That." Slowly, Pete went on washing his hands, but this time slowly and not in a rush. Helena didn't expect him to answer her question and was actually surprised when he did, causing her to look at him. "The need to run... for example by taking the bottle..." He sighed and then looked directly into her eyes. "No."

Helena squeezed her eyes shut, facing the wall once more. She listened to Pete drying his hands with her towel. HG didn't care he was using her towel. "I wouldn't even say it gets easier." He whispered without looking at her.

"Does Myka know? That you are doing this?" Her friend asked now, gesturing towards the ground and sounding like he tried to find out something without making her suspicious. HG offered him a weak nod and he sighed in relief. "At least you're telling her. Well, then..."

To her surprise, Helena could feel how he started lowering himself to the ground behind her. She rose her head to look over her shoulder at him. "What are you planning to do?" She asked, baffled.

"I'm just lying down here." He replied as he stretched on the floor.

"What? Why?" The Victorian was horrified.

"Seeing it from your point of view? I don't know." Pete went silent. Helena decided not to react. Instead she rested her head again on the hard floor and stared at the wall. They were really quiet for a while until Pete loudly sighed, sounding frustrated.

"What?" Helena asked again.

"I'm frustrated." He stated laconically.

HG's eyebrows furrowed. "Why would _you_ be frustrated?"

"Well, currently, I'm a 148 years old Victorian inventor, author and whatnot lying on the ground of my bathroom." Pete explained.

"You are?" She asked, still confused.

"Yes, I am." HG could sense him nodding profusely. "I can even try the British accent if you want me to."

"Please don't."

"Okay." He seemed to think for a while. "I'm asking myself why am I lying here, feeling that bad. And because I'm a genius, I'm thinking a lot about this. I have issues. My daughter died a very long time ago."

Helena gasped quietly without saying a word.

"And I'm still not finished mourning her, asking myself if I will ever be. My personal problem is that I'm kind of thinking I'm a really dangerous person." Helena wanted to reply something on that but he didn't let her, only rose his voice. "I struggle a lot with letting myself into other's people's lives and I have been running from myself for almost over a year playing house in suburbia." He cleared his throat. "Now that I finally know that I've been running, I stopped it but I struggle with not going back into my old habits. Oh... I'm in therapy. I really thought this would help me but in fact it does very little. I'm Helena Flipping I-have-no idea-what-that-G-stands-for Wells, by the way. I'm a strong woman. I should really make progress. But I don't, obviously, because at the moment I'm lying on the ground of my own bathroom, unsure if I'm ever gonna be able to move again."

"That sounds rather frustrating." Helena nodded and looked at him.

"Yeah, it does. No wonder I am." Pete raked his hand carefully through his own hair without looking at her.

The Victorian turned around to face him fully. He lay there on his back, arms crossed on his chest. Pete intensively stared at the ceiling with his eyebrows furrowed.

"So what are you going to do?" Helena asked quietly, genuinely interested in what her friend would answer.

"Yeah, I'm currently in character so I have no idea what to do. I think that's the most frustrating part, isn't it?" He pursed his lips.

"So you're not making progress with your therapy?" The writer pressed on thoughtfully. She had no idea what Pete was trying here, but it couldn't be that wrong to follow his lead.

"Nope."

"What have you tried so far?" She went into the topic.

He tilted his head a little. "You wanna know all the things?"

"Yes, I do." HG nodded.

"Okay, I had a really dark time, where I suddenly became relentless, hurt a lot of people. For example by finding a TMD." Pete pointed out.

"A what?"

"A Trident of Mass Destruction, darling." The man looked at her with one eyebrow raised. "Wasn't a good idea, so I decided to let myself freeze in bronze that I couldn't hurt anyone with my rage. Then I got debronzed, got angry again and this time I got also clearly manipulative, hurt a lot of people I like. Tried to use that TMD."

"That doesn't sound like a good way of dealing with grief." Helena whispered weakly, avoiding his eyes.

"It isn't." He replied. "But the thing about that is that it's in the past and I cannot do anything against it. The people I've betrayed have forgiven me a rather long time ago." He smiled. "Can you hear how I'm getting more and more in character?"

"So then, when you've accepted that this has happened in the past and you cannot change anything about it, why are you now lying here on the ground?" Helena asked, ignoring his last sentence.

"That's a good question. Especially because things have gotten better. I mean, yeah, there was that part where I've been running from myself and from people who love me. But now I'm back and I have at last accepted that this part is also the past and I cannot do anything to change it." Pete explained Helena's problems further.

"Yes, that's right, but why are you lying on the ground?" She demanded emphatically.

"Yeah, that's a good question." Pete rose his arms while speaking, sounding quite annoyed. "That's what frustrates me. I've been angry a lot, I have hurt people, I have hidden myself behind another person's name to be able to run from myself. What am I missing here? Why am I not making progress? I'm mourning my daughter! I'm in grief!"

She suddenly looked at him. "You are." Her friend nodded eagerly, his eyes darting through the room. "I am grieving for her. I'm a 148 years old Victorian inventor author in grief."

He looked at her. "And I'm allowed to be in grief, right? Because that's what people do who deal with losses like mine."

The Victorian tilted her head questioningly. "Did you cry?" She asked quietly and swallowed.

His eyes widened. "I don't know. Did I?" Pete looked deeply into her eyes. The Victorian thought for a while about his question.

"I have cried. But never... that..." She lay down again, turning away from him, and stared back at the wall. "Have I... mourned? Properly? Taken my time?" Helena couldn't answer these questions right herself. So many things had been happening back then...

Suddenly she felt Pete inching closer, wrapping his right arm around her. "What are you doing now?"

"Spooning you." He explained the obvious. "Holding you."

"Why?"

"Because that's what people do whose friends are in grief." Pete stated quietly.

"I'm not going to cry now." She declared strictly.

"That's okay. I'm still doing it, no matter how awkward it feels." The American said. "I mean, if you're alright with it."

Helena pondered this for a while. Then she only nodded and stayed quiet. Lying in his arms, staring at the wall. She didn't think, just was silent. But at least she wasn't alone in this silence.

HG didn't know how long they stayed like this until the door opened again. Claudia entered, shaking her head. The Caretaker didn't use doors that often anymore, Helena was glad she did this time. "So, Jinksy and Myka are doing inventory and I'm asking myself where's the rest of my..." She paused. "Oh... what are we doing here?" The Victorian only closed her eyes, finding herself glad that Pete rose his head and answered: "We're grieving."

The redhead blinked for a few seconds, looking down at the two figures on the ground. "We?" She asked, confusion evident in her voice.

"We're two 148 years old Victorian inventor authors in grief." The male Warehouse agent stated naturally. "But I'm the stronger one and I'm holding HG because she's allowed to be weak and in pain."

Claudia's eyes widened. Then she nodded, bending her knees, lying on the ground as well. She flopped herself down to Helena's other side. There was almost no space anymore inbetween the sink and the bathroom wall.

HG looked up. "You too, Claudia?" She asked, a little horrified.

"Shhhh. Don't judge me." The Caretaker returned and inched a little closer to the Victorian. She looked up to the ceiling, resting on her back. "I'm a 148 years old Victorian inventor author dealing with grief and no one is judging me." Claudia sighed, getting comfortable.

"So, what are we doing in particular?" She asked quietly.

"We're lying here, staring at the wall or the ceiling." Pete explained seriously. "Because we're allowed to do that when we feel the need. Because we're grieving."

"And no one is judging us for that." The Caretaker nodded and they got quiet again.

Now all three of them lay there on the ground and Helena really didn't know what to think about it. But she had to admit that even though it felt utterly awkward between them, she also felt safe and comfortable.

After some time, the door opened again, revealing Myka, who looked at them with an utterly surprised facial expression. The curly haired woman shot a concerned glimpse at Helena, finding her alright. Then she put her hands on her hips.

"So..." She furrowed her eyebrows. "What are the three of you doing exactly?"

"Hi, Myka! How's inventory?" Claudia rose her head and waved her hand.

"Busy. We got hungry and decided to come back to the B&B to cook, finding it completely empty." Myka blinked, still confused. "What is happening here?"

"Mykes." Pete waved his hand in dismissal. "Everything is okay. We're three 148 years old Victorian inventor authors in grief."

"You are?" The brunette asked, her eyes again darting worriedly to HG, who just nodded weakly.

"We are." Claudia replied."And no one is judging us for that, right Myka?"

"I'm the last one to judge 148 years old Victorian inventor authors for grieving." The other woman stated seriously. She tilted her head questioningly, looking into Helena's eyes. "But have you maybe thought about being a 148 years old Victorian inventor author in grief in our bed? I mean... it's definitely more comfortable over there and I could be there with you."

Everyone in the room looked at Helena, whose eyes rested on Myka. The Victorian thought about her girlfriend's offer for a while, then she nodded in approval. Claudia and Pete exchanged a look over her head, then they jolted up. "This sounds fantastic!" The Caretaker exclaimed.

Pete and Claudia helped Helena up, Myka carefully wrapped one arm around her. Then they walked over into Myka's and Helena's shared room, where the Victorian immediately lay down. The American joined her, letting HG rest her head on her chest, pulling her close. Helena was sure that Myka was about to say something when she suddenly felt two bodies flopping down on the bed, - one next to herself, the other one right next to the curly-haired woman. "No." Myka strictly stated, avoiding Pete and Claudia by staring at the ceiling.

"Mykes." Pete pleaded. "We are three 148 years old Victorian inventor authors in grief. Three of them."

"Your bed is really comfy." Claudia mentioned, stretching herself.

"There is only one Helena in my bed and she's my girlfriend, so you two shall go." Myka replied with a sharp tone in her voice.

"But we are perfectly in character!" Her partner whined. "We currently cannot differentiate betwee-"

Helena smiled into the fabric on Myka's chest. She gently squeezed her forearm, whispering: "Let them be. It's alright."

The Victorian could feel her love's surprise, but she didn't mind Claudia and Pete being here. Instead, it felt quite good. They all supported her, not matter what she had done or what she felt like.

* * *

When Helena eventually broke apart completely, Pete found her on the bathroom floor again. She cried, feeling like she could never do anything else in her life anymore. The Victorian weeped and sobbed like she was a small child, beating her fists on the floor. Pete, who was her friend, who was such a good friend, picked her up and carried her to the bed she usually shared with Myka. There, he lay with her, calling his partner quickly via Farnsworth.

Then, he held Helena, letting her cry on his shoulder, cling onto the fabric of his shirt. She even scratched him by mistake, screaming from the top of her lungs. He didn't mind but just held her. Myka showed up half an hour later, looking hurried, her mane of curls completely wet from the rain outside. Pete's and Myka's eyes met and he nodded. The two agents swapped places, now it was Myka who held Helena. Pete left them alone.

HG couldn't explain why it had happened so suddenly, but she felt like an old wound that had never healed properly has suddenly opened again and bled her out. She felt drained, old, even lonely. Although she wasn't, because Myka was there, holding her tight and just letting the Victorian cry desperately.

Depression. Helena had heard of different states of grief. And this felt like depression. She didn't know when she had made it through the bargaining state, but this, what she felt now, this was definitely depression.

Myka and Helena stayed in bed for three days. Nobody questioned it once, even Artie was quiet and didn't call them. Occasionally Pete, Steve, or Abigail brought them tea and food.

After already a few hours, HG had no tears to cry anymore, so she lay in Myka's arms and cried without them. On day two, she felt utterly exhausted, and she spent it completely in her love's embrace, not really sleeping but snoozing. She didn't even feel the time pass. Instead, there was just Myka's warmth and the cold of her own thoughts battling each other.

On day three, Helena finally spoke. She could hear the American breathe out in relief when she opened her mouth to whisper:

"I just miss her."

Myka only nodded in reaction, caressing the writer's cheek with the back of her hand. The curly haired woman spooned her from behind and Helena didn't make attempt to turn around and look at her. Instead, she surveyed the wall, because that felt easier for her.

"If there was anything I could do to..." The writer closed her eyes. Of course, there it was, the bargaining. She had felt it all the time, also during her anger. It had been part of it, part of the attempt to bring another ice age to the world, part of the torture of her daughter's murderer. Helena had been bargaining with the world all the time, only in her own way.

"I'm sad, Myka." Immediately, Helena felt odd, saying this sentence. She felt like she could also have said 'I have black hair', 'Water is wet' or 'If the sun isn't shining it's either cloudy or night'. Because it was that obvious, of course she was sad. She wasn't only sad, she was desolate and lachrymose. But she still needed to say it, to admit it.

Myka didn't say anything, holding HG for however long it took her to make it through this grief.

At first, the American led her out of the bed, so they could finally take a shower, because that was necessary after the last three days.

Then, Myka made sure Helena ate. HG currently had no mind for that, but took everything the other woman gave her.

When Helena got back to work, the younger woman called her in the evenings, just to check on her and talk to her. Myka didn't ask her once how she felt, because it was clear. Instead, they talked about lighter topics. But every time they were both home, they spent their evenings holding each other in bed.

Helena couldn't tell when she started feeling better, but at the end of the year, she recognised that she did. She hadn't lain down on the floor in weeks and somehow she hadn't even realised that. But then, once, Abigail asked her about it during therapy and Helena couldn't answer. It was just that it was easier. Easier to talk to her therapist, easier to make it through the day, even talking to Myka was easier, although that was so all the time after New York. Her shoulders just felt less heavy and Helena could breathe.

After her birthday in September, Helena was a 149 years old Victorian inventor author in grief. Yet no one judged her for that, instead everybody helped as much as they could.

By the end of the year, Helena was a 149 years old Victorian inventor author in recovery. And she smiled at the thought.


	4. Chapter 3

**Everything said about historical H. G. Wells in this chapter is utter bullshit and completely made up by me. **

**Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta.**

* * *

2016

After she's stopped the car in front of her parents' book store, Myka looked at her girlfriend, slightly nervous and concerned.

Helena shot a worried glimpse through the front window towards the 'Bering and Sons' sign and then shrugged.

"You don't have to do this, you know." The American mentioned, watching the Victorian carefully from the side. Helena quickly turned her head, a little mortified.

"What are you even talking about?"

"Well, meeting my parents. That's something... well... special? I mean..." Myka lowered her gaze to the middle console.

The older woman raised her eyebrows. "Talk to me, please."

"You're struggling hard with being H. G. Wells." The curly haired woman raised her hands. "And now you have to pretend to be somebody else for meeting my parents. I don't like this thought."

"Well." Helena leaned back in her seat to regard Myka properly. "I'm not denying who I am with this, am I? Today, I'm only a part of what I really am: Today, I'm Helena Wells, uhm... Secret Service agent, but, far more importantly: I'm Helena Wells, the woman who loves you and who wants to meet your parents. The, well, the H.G. Wells part is not important for today and we both know that I haven't written anything of that sort after 1899." She smirked and then leaned forwards to kiss Myka, who hesitantly kissed her back. The American pondered her girlfriend's speech while she felt Helena's lips brush over her skin.

"I really wish you could tell them who you really are. So you don't have to hide."

"The only person who has to know who I really am, Myka, is you. And I quite believe that is the most unfortunately cheesy sentence i have ever enunciated in my life, but that's alright for me." Helena smiled.

Myka still avoided her gaze. She sighed deeply, closing her eyes briefly when Helena cupped her cheeks, making her to face each other. The writer waited until the younger woman had opened her eyes again to look deeply into them and smile. "I love you, Myka."

The American nodded. "I love you, too."

"And part of this struggle with introducing me to your parents isn't even about my true identity." HG concluded smugly. Myka felt caught. Not sure if she should be surprised, she bit her lip. "Your father." Helena concluded and smirked when her girlfriend rolled her eyes.

"You know me far too well."

Quickly, Helena kissed the tip of Myka's nose. "That's the essence of our relationship, darling." After kissing her once more, this time with a more responsive Myka, Helena pulled back and looked out of the front window of Myka's SUV. "I think we should finally go inside and say hello, because that's a rather interesting way to look at one's daughter and her girlfriend."

Myka looked into the same direction, finding her parents and Tracy standing inside of the book store, behind the big window and staring at them interestedly.

"Okay." The younger woman took a deep breath and looked down to the steering wheel. She unfastened her seat belt. "All I'm saying is that I could understand if you wanted to be Emily Lake today. Because sometimes, I really don't want to be Myka Bering."

She felt Helena's hands on hers, both resting on the seat belt. Quickly, Myka looked up to find her girlfriend frowning at her. "I really don't want you to say anything like that." Helena simply stated and then turned to the other side to open the front passenger door.

When they both had crawled out of the car, Myka's family left the book store and walked towards them. Tracy immediately fell into her sister's arms. The agent just awkwardly patted her head.

After Myka had greeted everyone in her family, she looked at Helena, then at her father. "Uhm, this is my girlfriend, dad." She inhaled deeply but before she could speak, HG reached out a hand towards her father.

"Helena Wells." She said easily. "It's an honour to finally meet you, Sir."

Warren Bering's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as he took her hand. Myka had the feeling that he surveyed the Victorian extremely thoroughly before he eventually nodded.

* * *

In the late evening, after Helena had had dinner with the Berings, she slowly walked through the darkened book store. She didn't even know why and how she had made it into the Science Fiction aisle (which was well-stocked), but suddenly, she found herself here. Myka was upstairs answering her sister's awkward questions and Helena wanted to use this short moment for herself. To be alone for some time, calming and clearing her mind.

Well, the Science Fiction aisle of this book store didn't seem to be an appropriate place for that, but something in Helena wanted to be here. She ran her fingers over an old leather-bound book with golden letters on it. _H. G. Wells_, she silently read, _The Time Machine_.

Helena's smile was bitter-sweet. Of course she had made it into the Science Fiction aisle for a reason. This was the book store her girlfriend grew up in... who had been fond of HG's writing before she even knew that she was a woman, or was still alive.

Suddenly, Helena heard somebody clearing their throat right behind her. The Victorian spun around on her heels, finding Warren Bering. He leaned on one of those shelves, looking out of the window.

"I'm sorry, Sir." HG apologised, stepping back from the shelf. "I just wanted to look around to find out how Myka's life has been. When she was younger."

Warren Bering's face didn't change. He looked outside to the street, his arms still crossed.

"Did you know," He began without looking at Helena, "that some people say that H. G. Wells' books changed after 1899? That his style became different?"

Helena blinked at him in confusion for a few seconds, then came back to her mind. She shook her head. "No, Sir. I didn't know that."

Warren nodded and stepped forward to pass her. He stopped in front of the book store's window, still looking outside with his arms crossed on his chest. "Tell me something about you, Miss Wells. I'm interested to find out with whom my daughter fell in love."

"I- uhm..." Helena had prepared some things to say, but suddenly, she was out of words.

"When and where you were born for example." He turned around and for the first time since they both had come down here, he looked properly at her. Helena felt like he was observing her, just the same way he had done for the whole evening.

"London." HG replied and nodded profusely. "In 1979." Mr. Bering looked back to the window.

"That makes you 37 years old." He stated like this would be new information to her.

"Well, 36." Helena awkwardly cleared her throat. "I have birthday in September."

Again, Warren spun on his heels to survey her. The Victorian felt really awkward. "Interesting."

He spoke slowly as though he was processing this. "Do you have a middle name?" She didn't respond and he only nodded in reaction. Myka's father walked over to the bookshelf where Helena had stood a few minutes ago. He looked at the golden letters that read _H. G. Wells - The Time Machine._

HG crossed her arms and looked down to the ground, unsure what to do.

"Did you know," Warren Bering began again without looking at her, "that Myka has her eidetic memory from her mother?"

Helena's eyes widened. This was a less awkward topic, she felt safer. Turning towards Mr. Bering, she replied: "No, I didn't know."

"She has." Myka's father confirmed, still staring at the book in front of him. "I'm married to a woman with an eidetic memory for..." He shrugged, offering her a smile by turning his head briefly at her. "...a very long time now. So I lived with two women who remember everything everyone ever said. And also everything else..."

Helena suddenly had the feeling he wanted to tell her something important. So she only nodded and looked at him attentively.

"I for myself am good at figuring things out. Myka calls it 'the eye for the details'. Maybe she has it from me, I don't know. There is this thing I figured out while being married that long to a woman who remembers everything and having a daughter who does as well." He turned around to look into her eyes. "They barely make mistakes."

Helena smiled briefly. "Indeed, I got that, too."

"So I was a little confused when Myka showed up more than four years ago in my book store, behaving oddly, blinking away tears she tried to hide from us. Suddenly, she wanted to work in our store. She did that often when she was younger, but her job in the secret service was her life. Always. But... that wasn't what confused me." He looked again at the book. "What really confused me was that she once referred to H. G. Wells as 'she'."

Helena froze, staring at him, uncertain what to do.

"Myka barely makes mistakes, Miss Wells. So she stared at me, with her eyes wide and shook her head, correcting herself hastily. And then she suddenly was tearful and I didn't know what to do." Mr. Bering paused for a moment, studying the Victorian. Then he nodded, drawing his gaze away from the Brit. "I don't know what my daughter is doing exactly for a living now. All I know is that I've seen a notebook by Edgar Allan Poe, which caused me to feel extremely bad. And that the people she works with suddenly showed up here, acting strangely. Or that there was a man with a lantern..." He took a deep breath and then looked directly into Helena's eyes. The Victorian had pursed her lips.

"I know that there is something... curious about her job. That she isn't really working for the Secret Service anymore, even though she says so. We don't talk about that. We actually don't talk that much."

HG wanted to say something, but Warren Bering rose his voice again.

"Honesty, Miss Wells, is something I really appreciate. So, I would appreciate if you would answer my questions truthfully. I will accept whatever I hear, as long as it is the truth..." He glared at her. "So, do you have a middle name?" He asked interestedly. The Brit nodded, lowering her gaze to the ground. "George."

The only reaction from Myka's father was an understanding nod. "At the dinner table, you mentioned that your daughter died a very long time ago. I am sorry about this. But when did it happen?"

"In 1899. In Paris." Helena couldn't stop herself from answering his question honestly. Warren looked for a few seconds at her.

"Did you have a ghost writer afterwards?" He asked, sounding genuinely intrigued.

"No, my brother Charles and I worked together. I did the research. We wrote the novels together but he... Well, I was more the person who loved to do the research. Writing was something we did together, as brother and sister. And of course, he had the, well, face that allowed us to publish although for that, we used my initials. And apparently, he went on writing after I... 1899." HG spoke cautiously, but she heard Warren snort.

"With that, my theory should be proven right." He whispered and then turned around again to look at the book with the golden letters. "A... a time machine?" He asked, sounding like he was at a loss.

"Well, no. Indeed, the machine did exist, for a purpose. But the reason why I am here is far more complicated, Mr. Bering." Helena inhaled the air deeply to steady herself, but it didn't help.

Mr. Bering was quiet for a while, then he shrugged. "Okay." He turned fully around to take a step into her direction. "That's everything I need to know." He reached out his hand towards her, she weakly took it.

"I am honoured to meet you." He smiled carefully. "H. G. Wells."

While shaking his hand, HG looked into his eyes. "I prefer Helena." She spoke. "But my friends call me HG, Sir."

* * *

"And then he made me answer questions about _The Island of Doctor Moreau_." Helena explained while Myka lay down next to her in bed. They were in the younger woman's old room above the book store. The American shook her head.

"I can't believe he figured that out." She whispered.

"Well, he's an intelligent man, just like his daughter. It doesn't surprise me at all." The Victorian snuggled into her girlfriend's side, smiling. "I'm just... it felt good. I don't know why it did, but it felt really good."

"To be H. G. Wells?" Myka looked down at her, finding her nodding eagerly.

"Not having to hide." Helena kissed her shoulder, letting her lips linger there. "I'm H. G. Wells. People consider me a famous writer, even though Charles did a lot for it. But... well, I'm a famous writer."

"You are. Well, but you're also Helena Wells, the woman I love." Myka replied. It was obivous she enjoyed the older woman's touch on her shoulder. "But well, those two things don't have to be separated for me."

HG smirked, her hand wandering up the American's leg. "Helena G. Wells." She whispered, leaning further upwards to press gentle open-mouthed kisses on Myka's neck. "The woman who loves you. But also... one of the persons who wrote _The Time Machine_." She carefully caressed the inner side of her love's thigh. The younger woman's breath hitched. "Am I right?" The Victorian watched Myka struggling with keeping her eyes open. Helena felt good. She really did. She felt like she could currently run around the city and tell everyone she had written those books. Of course this wasn't what she was about to do.

"Helena, we're in my parent's house." Myka murmured breathlessly. HG smirked at that.

"I was born in Victorian age, darling." She whispered in the American's ear. "I am used in having to be quiet. Our walls have been rather thin back then." Helena let the tip of her tongue find the soft skin of Myka's earlobe. The younger woman winced in reaction, causing the Victorian to grin. "I'm H. G. Wells." She breathed onto the skin of Myka's neck. "And I want to make love to my girlfriend."

The curly haired woman's eyes closed. "I'm H. G. Wells' girlfriend." She whispered with an amused tone of voice.

"You are." Helena rasped. Her hand reached under silk, and then the Victorian smiled smugly. "And you seem to be rather fond of that." The only reaction from Myka was a deep intake of breath, a slight shift of her hips.

"I just don't want to hide any longer." The Victorian leaned forwards, brushing her lips over the American's cheek. The first stroke caused Myka to throw her head back. "If not about the fact that I'm H. G. Wells, then about the fact of who I am and what I've done." The younger woman nodded in reaction but it was clear that she struggled with listening at all.

"I have accepted my past. Now it's on others to do that as well." Another stroke, Myka quietly moaned. "It's a pity that I'm an important historical figure or that we're dealing with artifacts the world isn't ready for yet. But if I could, I would tell them." HG stopped her motions, looking around the room. "That I have done things I am not proud of, but that I've learned living with it. And that I feel fine. I would never want to hide that from our children..."

Myka's eyes snapped open. She stared at the older woman for a few seconds. Helena turned her head to look at her, confused. "Something wrong, love?"

"No." The American whispered with a smile. She carefully turned over to kiss the older woman and rock her hips into her hand. "You're just teasing me, Helena." She briefly bit the Victorian's lip, causing her to cry out. "I thought you were good at being quiet." Myka pressed her pelvis onto the other woman's skin, finally humming quietly, when Helena continued to give the younger woman friction.

"I am." The Victorian stated a little indignantly. Myka covered her lips again with her own, their tongues meeting and caressing each other. With nimble hands, she opened the buttons of the older woman's blouse. "Show me."


	5. Chapter 4

**Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta.**

* * *

The same year

Carefully, Steve put a Tesla on the coffee table, glancing at HG who sat on its other side. Silently, he shoved the stun gun over to his partner and then picked up his tablet computer. The team was in their shared hotel room, preparing for next step of their artifact hunt. This mission had been rather mysterious and Steve had assumed it would also be dangerous. Tonight they had to charge into a storehouse owned by criminals and were making plans for it right now.

_This shouldn't be too complicated_, Helena thought. In the last two years, they had become a team, a really good team, who trusted each other and ignored certain Warehouse policies about their hierarchy. After all, Helena was still a restricted agent and Steve the senior agent. Sometimes, Steve mocked her, or called her "the new guy" or "old lady". It was funny how easily she could irritate him with her death glare then. At those times, he'd mutter a shy "Sorry", before she'd burst out in laughter. Steve was insecure, but he was a good and honest man. He shared some character traits with Wolcott, despite being a lot different from HG's old partner at Warehouse 12. And Helena really enjoyed working with Jinksy.

However, HG didn't like this 'restricted agent' policy they had to deal with for more than two years now. Steve was in charge over everything that was needed for the artifact hunt, except the gloves. Also, _technically_, Steve was more Helena's boss than her partner. He could command her around on the Regents' behalf although they both didn't care for these rules anymore. They had led them into dangerous situations often enough: twice, Steve had had artifact induced problems and Helena had no access to any static bags. After she had saved his butt both times, he had decided to act against the Regent's decision without their knowledge. After three weeks in the field, he had started handing her everything she needed as soon as they were in the car to leave for a mission. In the Warehouse they pretended to follow the rules Adwin Kosan and company had set up for them, but in the field they were friends and equal partners who didn't need much actual communication to understand each other.

"Well, then." Jinksy sighed deeply, sliding his fingers across the tablet's screen. He nodded in approval of what he was seeing before taking the computer from his lap to place it on the coffee table as well, right next to the Tesla. It showed the blueprint of a huge building which Artie had sent it to them via email. After figuring out her Caretaker responsibilities far enough to work on her own, Claudia had instantly gone digital with the Warehouse. This meant that Myka, Pete, Helena and Steve had spent weeks digitalising the files of the last three years, inbetween their usual missions and doing inventory. In this time, Helena and Myka had fallen into bed as soon as they had approached it, exhausted. Now, it meant that every file of theirs was digital, there were computers in every second Warehouse corner and each agent carried a tablet. So they could easily give each other information needed for the artifact hunt, of course, not because it was "Damn cool, so you better shut up, Myka. I know you need sleep, but the Warehouse needs this update!" as Claudia had put it once. The Caretaker had planned, initiated, and performed the major part of the process to bring the Warehouse to the 21th century herself, because she remembered "the last time you allowed somebody else to tinker on the Warehouse's computer system that wasn't me. I am still the techy in this team and no one shall replace me until I draw my last breath! And since I'm immortal now, this will be a really-really long time, you guys!"

Pete and Helena really liked the new equipment, but Steve and Myka were struggling with it since day one. Artie was seen rather often with his face red and his fingers sliding furiously across the screen of a tablet while hissing quiet insults towards it. How practical could it be when you were on artifact hunt, needed very important research because... say... your head and hands were currently doubled in size – and instead of that important file the other team has sent you the Fruit Combat app opened? Both teams, the A team and the second A team could call themselves lucky that they had Helena and Pete – who could handle technical stuff really well – helping out Myka and Steve, who were always two seconds away from tossing their tablet across the room as soon as they tried to open a file.

"Yes?" HG looked at her partner in anticipation of what he wanted to suggest. Steve slid his fingers across the tablet, looking for a certain spot on the blueprint. Helena watched him, smirking.

"May I offer my help?" She suggested after a while, still smiling knowingly. She was rewarded with a enthusiastic shake of his head. "I'm gonna figure this out myself, HG. This is only... it's this... thing... it's... wait... aha! There!" Jinksy pointed at the screen, smiling triumphantly. "So, that's the back door. The plan is the following: You'll run into the building with the Tesla. I'm gonna cover you with the gun. We follow that hall-" He looked up when he noticed how Helena quietly but thoroughly cleared her throat.

"May I suggest something?" She asked, biting her lip.

"Uhm... of course." Her partner shoved the tablet a little closer to her and then leaned back in his armchair to watch her.

The writer immediately moved forward and quickly and easily started running her fingers across the screen. "Judging from the building's blueprint, I would not recommend entering through the back door. Look at me and you. We're rather nimble – in comparison to, say, Pete. This would make another, less obvious way to get into the building possible." She looked up, waving her hand from him to herself. "I think it would make more sense to get into the building through these two windows." HG pointed at the white outline on blue, watching Steve tighten eyebrows. "For that, you would have to get in first and I could cover you with the gun. We would easily have access to this wooden bridge across the-" Helena paused her speech. She had noticed that he had frozen at her recent sentences. "Is everything alright?" She inquired carefully, slightly worried why he stared at her like she had just declared she was about to build another time machine.

He was regarding her thoroughly, blinking a few times and looking quite confused.

"Is there anything you don't agree on, Jinksy?" The Victorian asked, shrugging. "I was only making a suggestion. You have to admit that it's a smarter and only logical-" She was interrupted by her partner.

"You want to cover me?" He whispered, sounding baffled.

Now it was on Helena to blink at him confusedly. "Yes." She confirmed, her eyes darting to the tablet and up again. She was puzzled. "Is there a problem with that?"

"_You_ really want to cover _me_?" He repeated. "Like... making sure I don't get shot?"

_Well, this is new,_ HG thought. In the last two years, their work with each other had been made of silent agreements, being complementary. They didn't have to talk that much, it had just worked. Steve and Helena really knew each other's way of thinking. And now he was really bad at figuring out a simple suggestion of hers.

"Yes, Steve, that was what I was saying. You will go in first, I'll have your back." She scrunched her nose when he snorted. "Don't you trust me?" Helena asked, flabbergasted.

Immediately, he rolled his eyes. "Of course _I_ trust you, HG." He stated without hesitation. "It's just... you never- ... in two years working with each other... you never-" But before Jinks could clarify his problem, he stopped speaking, paused, and then only smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" Helena demanded nervously. It was getting more and more mysterious with him.

"Nothing. It's okay." He nodded quickly. "I think your suggestion is great and... only logical." He leaned over the tablet to look at the blueprint. "Then, we would have easier access to the artifact which I assume to be down there."

"Steve, you're still smiling." Helena noted, with an eyebrow raised.

"Of course I am. I'm glad about your suggestion." He replied quickly, scrolling down further on the blueprint. Helena couldn't even tell if he was lying or not.

* * *

Back in Univille, Steve had asked Helena to bring the successfully snagged artifact to the Warehouse. The senior agent went to the B&B, where he headed for the dinner table straight away, carrying a report file, - an old, analogue on real paper, not one of those digital horrors.

It was quiet in the building. Pete and Myka were on artifact hunt, Claudia was... well, doing whatever she had do when she met the Regents or Mrs. Frederic. The redhead didn't talk that much about it. Steve knew she wanted to, but there were rules. Claudia was struggling with them.

Sometimes, she dropped a hint or two towards them about the Regents' decisions, but the agents were not supposed to know everything that was going on in the higher ranks. Claudia couldn't allow them to put their noses in her matters. Matters that kept her away from the B&B a lot. She was a busy woman, but she came home as often as she was able to. To eat with them. To be with them. To play Scrabble with Myka and Adelaide (the kid had decided that Helena was a reckless cheater and could not allowed to actually play with them anymore, so the Victorian could only watch), or comment sarcastically on Abigail's attempts to cook. Or to just be with her family and sleep in her room as often as possible.

The Inn was Claudia's home. They were a family. And Steve knew that there were things to do when you were part of a family.

Steve wrote a report to put an end to something he was doing for two years now. He wrote a long report. About their latest artifact case, about the last two years he had worked with HG. He would give it to Claudia when he'd see her again. In the last months, the redhead had occassionally asked him questions about his partner. He knew what those questions had been about, even though he hadn't been able to tell at all what Claudia had been looking for in Helena's behaviour. Watching the Victorian during work on the Regent's request had been something he had struggled with. It was like keeping a secret from her. But ...for some reason, Steve had the vague feeling Helena knew what he was doing and she approved.

Once in a half-year, Steve had to write a report about HG, based on what he had witnessed. He had never figured out what he was supposed to write. "Doing her work really well.", "I would trust her with my life." All those words hadn't helped. At some point, he had almost grabbed Claudia by the hand to ask her "What do you want me to write, for crying out loud?", but he knew this wouldn't have helped either.

Now, Steve finally understood what the Caretaker had wanted from him. What the Regents probably told her they wanted to hear from them. Claudia wanted to take care of Helena, but for that, she needed a certain event in the Victorian's life. And maybe, just maybe, Steve had just witnessed this event.

No. Not maybe. He was pretty damn sure of it. So he wrote a report, an extremely long one, uncertain if it was really necessary to make it that detailled. But he didn't care. All he wanted to do was to help his partner and friend.

* * *

One and a half weeks later, Helena was sitting alone in Artie's office. Steve had asked her to put his notes about the last artifact they had snagged into the computer. She really didn't know why she had agreed on that and was questioning her consent about this. She was bloody tired. It was late in the evening and she was working on digital files while she could actually be in bed with Myka, or be in the shower with Myka, or be anywhere... with Myka.

The Victorian absent-mindedly rubbed her uptight shoulder. She could use a massage. By Myka. Yes, one of Myka's massages would help and not the torture Pete called 'back rub' that he occasionally tried to perform on the other agents. Steve's back rubs were alright, but he had to light a huge amount on candles before doing that and Helena had no time for his need of being 'Zen' when her back was aching.

So, a massage by Myka. Because frankly speaking: It was late, she was tired and she hadn't been with her girlfriend in a few days. After the case with the storehouse, Helena had been in Boone with Adelaide. After that, Myka had been in Michigan on artifact hunt with Pete and then Helena and Steve had been out again. And now that Myka and Helena were finally both at home, the writer had agreed on Steve's request to put _his _notes into the computer? What had happened? Had she become Helena "Soft-and-Cozy" Wells?

The inventor was about to turn off the computer so she could drive back to the B&B and tell Jinksy that he could put his notes to a place where the sun wasn't shining when the Umbilicus door opened behind her back, causing her to yelp. Being alone in the Warehouse was a little unsettling, sometimes. ... _Why had she agreed on that?_

To Helena's surprise, it was Adwin Kosan who entered Artie's office. He greeted and confused HG with a friendly "Good evening, Miss Wells." As always, he had his hands buried deeply in the pockets of his trousers, strolling into the room like he was taking a walk in the park.

"Mr. Kosan." Helena replied, absolutely astonished, while rising from her chair. She glanced around the messy room. "Pardon my surprise. If I'd known you were going to visit the Warehouse, I'd have cleaned up." She lowered her gaze to the ground, internally rolling her eyes. The Victorian had never liked Mr. Kosan. Or the Regents at all.

"I'm not here for the Warehouse." Adwin stated, shaking his bald head before giving her a careful look.

"Who would have guessed." Helena struggled badly with holding back her sarcasm. She wasn't that eager to find out why a Regent was showing up in the Warehouse this late. Instead of replying, Mr. Kosan just opened the buttons of the jacket of his well-tailored suit and pulled out a thick file.

Helena raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"I'm here to discuss your second application for becoming a fully reinstated agent, Miss Wells." The Regent clarified. "We both know the Regents didn't agree on your request last year."

The agent sighed. Of course she knew, since she was _still_ a restricted agent.

"I haven't done an application this year." She pointed out, a little confused. Carefully, she crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the desk next to her.

"That's right." Mr. Kosan nodded, opening his file. He browsed slowly through the pages, then he continued: "Miss Donovan did."

"Claudia?" Helena's eyes widened in surprise. _The Caretaker? Why?_

"A detailled report written by the agent responsible for you, Steve Jinks, reached us a few days go." Adwin mentioned, putting his left hand in the pocket of his trousers, fiddling with something in it. "The Regents discussed it intensively and I have eventually made a decision." He pulled out his hand again and rested it on the opened page of his file.

Helena quickly waved her hand in dismissal. "Because you're making the decisions, yada yada. I know, I know. " She sighed deeply. "Please just tell me what you have to tell me, and do it quickly. I'd rather prefer to be in bed as soon as possible."

Mr. Kosan looked at her, then he took a deep breath, his features showing again his business-as-usual facial expression. "There was something in Mr. Jinks' report that made us think thoroughly. I quote..." He looked down at his file and started reading out loud:

"'After two years of partnership with her, I have to express that HG is a really big pain in the ass.'"

HG rolled her eyes when she heard those words. She knew Jinksy. He was also 'a really big pain in the ass' himself. But the Victorian also stiffled a laughter. Her partner had made Adwin Kosan say 'pain in the ass'. The next round of beer was definitely on her.

"'She's cheeky,'" Mr. Kosan continued, "'A know-it-all, struggling with accepting other peoples' – especially mine – opinion. All this while being as much distant, objective, reflective... " Helena looked up at the Regent when she heard those words. "as much she is open, warm, gentle and a wonderful friend. Because that's what she is. In two years of partnership she has become one of my closest friends.' Here, he has written a side note that says 'Of course after you, Claud.'" Mr. Kosan cleared his throat, ignoring the sniff that escaped the Victorian. "'In any situation, I would trust Agent Helena G. Wells with my life.'" Adwin looked up from his file at the agent. Helena was staring at the ceiling, fighting the tears that were forming in her eyes in reaction to Steve's words.

Calmly, Mr. Kosan read on. "'But we all know that my trust in and opinion on Agent Wells is not what this report should be about, what the Regents are looking for, since I'm getting asked to write about her every half-year and I have expressed my trust in her this often. I know that it hasn't been much time since my last report. But I think the event we all have been waiting for seems to finally have happened: after we have put all our trust in HG, she has finally started trusting herself again, without noticing it herself. Today, for the first time in two years, Helena G. Wells has asked if she could cover me with a gun and I think she's not aware of the deeper meaning of this. She trusts herself again."

Here, the Regent stopped and watched the time traveller again who had quietly gasped at his last words. The agent's eyes were squeezed shut, her lips pressed in one thin line. "Do you need a moment, Miss Wells?" Mr. Kosan asked carefully, but she only shook her head without opening her eyes, uncertain what to say.

"It's alright." She murmured. "Just say what you want to say."

Adwin Kosan didn't say anything. With her eyes still shut, HG could hear him placing objects on the desk next to them. Steve's words had done something to Helena's heart. Currently, there were just too many feelings at once.

"I will need your badge." Mr. Kosan mentioned calmly. Helena's eyes snapped open. "What?" She asked, surprised.

"Your old badge tells that you are a restricted agent of the Secret Service, which isn't true any longer." Adwin pointed at the desk next to them. There was a gun, a Tesla, static bags and a badge. A new badge. "This is your new one."

Helena just stared at the Regent with disbelieving eyes. Adwin Kosan smiled a little mischievously. "Your badge, please?" He reached out a hand. "You're a fully reinstated Warehouse agent now, so your badge should fit this circumstance, even though the part about the Secret Service will never be true."

The Victorian blinked a few times, still at a loss. Then she nodded.

"Of course." Helena replied breathlessly, looking down to her belt and grabbing her old badge.

She stilled her motion mid-reach, her head snapped up at Mr. Kosan again.

"I would like to speak openly." The Agent cleared her throat and nodded. Mr. Kosan looked attentively at her. "Do you really think," Helena asked, dropping her hands to her side, "that this was a good idea?" Quickly, she pointed at her badge. "To make me a restricted agent for about two years?"

"Well." Mr. Kosan knotted his eyebrows. "We needed to find a way to make sure our trust in you is justified, Miss Wells."

HG snorted, rolling her eyes. There was a single tear running down her cheek. A tear of relief, of happiness about Steve's words. But it was also a tear of anger. "You really think that you could get a woman into trusting herself again by giving her a huge badge that reads 'Restricted agent' which basically says 'We don't trust you, Miss Wells'? You think it's a good idea to ask her rather insecure partner to secretly observe her? I knew he did, and I watched him struggle with it every day!"

Mr. Kosan's mouth opened, but before he could speak, she interrupted him. "Mr. Jinks is right." She exclaimed and ripped the badge off her belt. "I trust myself again, but the credit for this does not belong to the Regents." Helena felt the weight of her old badge in her hand. "Regents put people into Janus coins. Regents make decisions, Mr. Kosan. And I can't think of a single decision that actually helped us agents. That helped me. After everything that has happened, I have to say, that yes, I belong in the Warehouse, as an agent and not as a bronze statue. Because I am a good agent and a trustworthy person. I came back to the Warehouse because I am good at my job and because I love the family that belongs to it. Not for the greater good and not because I have to earn the Regents' trust."

Mr. Kosan swallowed thickly, glaring at her, but remained silent.

"And after two years of trying to find myself again, I have to express this one little thing." Helena smiled at him, taking a deep breath. "Every hour of therapy with Abigail Cho, every talk with Peter Lattimer, every mission with Steven Jinks and every hour I spent with Claudia Donovan, tinkering on a device... every second with the Warehouse family was worth a million times more than anything the Regents have ever done for me."

Helena slowly swapped her old badge with her new one. "I am a trustworthy person, Mr. Kosan. And that's nothing you have to tell me. I decided that myself."

* * *

Quickly, Helena entered the B&B's, finding Steve and Claudia standing in the hallway. They both leaned against the wall, their arms crossed in front of their chests, gazes pinned to the ground. They looked like they were stiffling their laughter; Claudia glanced up at her, just to look down again.

HG threw the door shut with a loud bang and marched directly towards her partner, whose eyes snapped up searching for hers, yet there still was this suppressed grin on his face.

Suddenly, HG's hand dashed forward to forcefully slap him in the face. The Caretaker next to him ducked away, apparently afraid to be treated the same way. She hid behind the frame of the living room's door, slowly peeking her head out and watching the scenery from the slight distance.

"YOU ARSE!" Helena spat at Steve who rubbed his reddened cheek, surprise and confusion evident on his features. "What?" He asked weakly, his voice trembling a bit.

"You have been observing me for two years, sending secret reports about my condition to the Regents?" The Victorian shouted. She glowered at him.

Claudia inhaled the air loudly. "Jinksy? You did?... oooooh!" She asked innocently. The Victorian spun on her heels to glare at her. "Don't even try to pretend you didn't have to do anything with it, Claudia." She hissed with her eyebrows tightened. "We both know that Steve would never do anything like this without talking to you first." The Caretaker backed up further into the living room, her hands resting on her cheeks as if she was protecting them from Helena.

"HG, they ... kinda... forced me into it. Don't..." Steve murmured, still rubbing his cheek which now showed a big red mark of Helena's hand.

And then, suddenly, he was in her arms. Helena had wrapped her petite figure around Steve's tall frame, her brows resting on his chest.

"Thank you." She whispered and pressed him tighter. "Thank you." She breathed again. And again. HG repeated it until she started crying. Steve just stood there, apparently unsure what to do, except for holding her. There was a stomping noise coming from the staircase, but HG didn't look up at all. She just smiled and cried, wetting the fabric of Steve's shirt, because she was grateful and happy. Really happy.

The noise on the staircase was Myka. "What's going on?" She questioned, sounding worried. "Helena, are you alright?" The Victorian could hear that she was getting closer and then, she felt her girlfriend's hand on her shoulder.

"HG has been fully reinstated as a Warehouse agent." Claudia mentioned, feeling still a tiny bit scared.

"Helena, what is going on?" Myka asked again, and her tone of voice didn't change. It seemed she didn't get what Claudia was saying.

Helena smiled into the fabric on Steve's chest. Then, she let go of him to spin around and pull Myka close. To kiss her. To kiss Myka passionately and possessively, tasting the salt of her own tears on both their lips.

From the top of the staircase, Pete whistled in response. Hearing that, the writer threw her head back and burst out in laughter. She laughed loudly and freely, gripping the fabric of Myka's shirt. She still laughed and smiled when everyone in the B&B, including Artie and Abigail, inched closer to hug her and congratulate her. She even laughed when Artie awkwardly patted her shoulder.

Helena really felt like laughing.


	6. Chapter 5

**Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta**

* * *

2017

"Well, HG." Abigail gave the clipboard in her hands a careful look. She tilted her head a little to the left and then glanced up at the Victorian in the armchair in front of her. Helena was just taking a sip from her tea. "I'm glad to say that this will be one of our last therapy sessions."

The former therapist ducked hastily to avoid the spat-out rain of tea that showered the room.

"What?" Helena gaped at her, reaching for one of the cloth napkins on the coffee table to dry herself and their surroundings.

"Yeah, we're mostly finished." Abigail announced, looking down at her clipboard again. "There isn't anything to do anymore. You're a fully reinstated Warehouse agent. You allow yourself to be in grief. You have reached a state of acceptance about your daughter's death. Myka and you have a healthy relationship, and you haven't talked about having nightmares in a year." The keeper of the B&B shrugged. "There isn't anything left that you and I could talk about as a therapist and a patient. Everything else we would discuss would be us talking as friends."

"But Abigail!" Helena protested, her flingers squeezing the napkin in her lap. "It still hurts." She took a deep breath. "It still hurts so much. Sometimes I can't breathe because of how much pain it's causing me, and then I get angry. It hurts."

Abigail regarded her carefully, taking her time. "I know." She whispered quietly, HG actually struggled to understand her. The former therapist folded her hands in her lap like she always did when she was about to say something important. Then, she cleared her throat and spoke on, louder this time. "I know that it hurts, HG." The innkeeper lowered her gaze to the ground. "And it would make me happy to say that it will certainly stop hurting, but that would be a lie. Because HG, some wounds are so deep that the scars they leave will always hurt. All we can do is learn to live with them, and that's what you did." Her eyes once again darted up, meeting the Victorian's. "I can only help you so far. Of course I will also support you in the future as much as you want me to. But then, I would do it as a friend and not as your therapist."

Helena just stared at her, out of words. Abigail smiled sheepishly.

"I'm not healed." The Victorian stated strictly, because it was true. The former therapist slightly shook her head in reaction.

"And maybe I'll never be."

Abigail sighed and then shrugged. "But you can live with it, feeling better. And some day... maybe... you can accept that you may never have required to heal but to learn to live with your injury."

* * *

Artie was coping with the flu for a few days now. He felt tired, his joints hurt, his throat was sore and he had this hellish headache. Despite all that he stayed in the Warehouse and did inventory, Vanessa was probably going to be mad at him for that. She had told him to stay in bed, but his job was important. Currently, this meant he was walking busily around the Darwin aisle, looking for a particular artifact they had assumed to be there, yet they couldn't find it. He thought his colleagues were silly, because he was sure he had snagged this exact artifact ten years ago. But now, it was lost.

It was... well, okay... after an hour of looking for it, he had to admit that it actually wasn't in the Darwin aisle. How on earth could that have happened? Now, they had to search the whole Warehouse and...

Artie heard a quiet thud. It sounded like wood meeting wood, and for the fraction of a second, he considered a risk to yelp like a little scared child. Not that he would do that, because the agent was indeed a grown-up man and certainly used to all the noises the Warehouse caused. With a deep sigh, he looked into the direction he had heard that noise coming from but couldn't see anything.

The old man looked down at his tablet again, but then shook his head. If he had learned anything in all those years he was now working here, it would be that none of the noises in the Warehouse were imaginary. Unless he was struck by an artifact that made him have hallucinations, like that one time... he shook his head again, put his tablet under his arm and then walked directly to the place where he assumed the thudding noise to come from.

There was nothing to see. Artie stood at a crossroad of aisles, looked right and then left, shrugged and was about to turn around to concentrate on more important matters when he heard the noise again. Wood meeting wood, he was pretty sure of it. From the left! Maybe he could catch the cause of that noise. Immediately, Artie turned to the left and started walking quickly down the aisle.

He stopped when all of a sudden he heard sobs. A woman was crying. Hearing someone cry was a little scarier than just a thud. The worst you could hear in the Warehouse – besides Mrs. Frederic's voice giving you a countdown – was a child crying and the agent was glad he hadn't heard both noises in ages. Artie looked up to the small badge on the shelf next to him to find out in which aisle he was currently standing. Aisle A114 was part of the department of the Warehouse for safekeeping technical devices that had no particular historical person or event as a cause. This aisle stored kitchen appliances, - for example a microwave that turned food into gold, he remembered snagging that one. There was aisle A113 right next to it, the watch and clocks aisle. That one was stocked well.

Meanwhile, sobbing continued. The old man was pondering which artifact in aisle A113 could cause it along with thuds as he entered that aisle. He stopped, finding HG sitting in an armchair in the middle of it.

For a brief moment Artie wondered where those random armchairs did always come from. He had the feeling that they appeared out of the blue if somebody needed a place to sit while doing inventory. He also gave the other agent a careful look, judging if she was handling any strange artifacts without his knowledge. After all, she was still HG Wells and right now, she was alone in aisle A113. A time traveller in the clock and watches aisle was rather suspicious and Artie had never forgiven her for the time she had shot him. Warily, he eyed her hands, looking for a weapon... but only finding a tissue.

Artie froze. HG Wells was sitting in aisle A113, crying.

The agent glanced over his shoulder, thinking whether he could make it out of the aisle silently, so she wouldn't notice him. But then, there was this itch in his nose and immediately, Artie sneezed, loudly and with an echo only an expanding building like the Warehouse could provide.

HG's head snapped up instantly. She stared at him, looking like she was feeling caught. Hastily, she wiped away her tears with the tissue, quickly rising from her chair.

It was a really poor-looking tissue, incredibly used, rumpled, wet... Artie sighed, reached into the pocket of his trouses and pulled out a new one, neatly folded and clean. Then he walked towards the writer. "Here." He said, holding it out. HG eyed the tissue cautiously, but Artie shook his head. "It's clean." He assured her.

When she took it out of his hand and started profusely blowing her nose, Artie nervously gazed around the aisle. He was standing next to a family member who was dealing with grief, anxiety, and depression. Abigail had mentioned how important a proper recovery was for the time traveller and... And he really wasn't good at this. So he'd better... just leave her here... and do his work... and–

HG sniffed another time, sitting back down in the armchair. Artie glanced at her. She didn't look well at all with her face wet, and her eyes red, and-

The old agent sighed deeply and then sat down on the chair's side to stay with her. To make sure she was alright. He was definitely lacking the social skills to properly comfort her, and he was still mad at her... kind of... but, well... he could do something.

"Thank you." Helena said, clearing her throat. She blew her nose again.

"No problem." Artie grumbled and stared at the shelf in front of the armchair. There was this awkward silence. The man was more than sure he was supposed to say something. But maybe she just wanted to be quiet or alone.

Artie cleared his throat awkwardly and then started coughing. This flu was getting worse. It was a really bad coughing fit, he had to lean forward and then felt how HG gently gave him a few hits on the back.

"Are you alright?" She asked worriedly when he tried to catch his breath. The bearded man raised his bushy eyebrows and then glanced at her. "Are you?" He asked between two deep breaths. There. He had initiated comfort talk. Artie was proud of himself.

Helena snorted, the tears in her eyes rising once more. She avoided his gaze by looking at the shelf again. Slowly, he turned his head to look into the same direction.

On the shelf, there was lying a-

"That's the watch." HG mentioned, like she was trying to explain something he didn't understand. Artie blinked a few times, confused. Then he looked at her. "The watch?" He interrogated, searching for the meaning of this statement in his head.

"It's _the_ watch Sarah used to travel through time to save Myka." Helena clarified, watching Artie's eyes widen. "Ooooh! Right!" The supervisor agent nodded eagerly and eyed the object on the shelf. "_The_ watch. It's exists out of time. Those guys in Eureka probably would really take a look at it now that they found out that time travel is actually a physical possibility. I could hardly believe it mys-" He paused, looking at Helena. "Wait." Artie pulled his eyebrows in a tight knit. "You aren't about to do anything bad, are you?"

He was alarmed and about to rise from the armchair, when she put a hand on his knee to gently push him down. "No, Artie, I am not." She whispered with a certainty in her voice.

He stared at her. The tears in her eyes made him assume she was really sad, but for some reason, HG Wells was also smiling. Artie struggled with understanding emotions. He had to admit that those he had learned to recognise were probably only three or four: anger (Claudia and HG), love (Vanessa and Claudia), pride (Myka and Claudia) and annoyance (Pete and anyone he had to work with), and that he didn't know much about them. But he was pretty certain that it wasn't biologically possible to look as happy and sad at the same time as HG did.

"You're not?" He asked, as though it was necessary. He knew she wouldn't do anything "evil" anymore. But sometimes... Artie's pride was hurt since he had had to deal with her and somehow... it was hard to express. He was mad at her!

"Yeah, I know you're not!" He exclaimed when she raised both her eyebrows at him. "But why the hell are you sitting here, crying... and smiling?"

"Well." HG took her hand away from his knee and then looked at the watch, slightly tilting her head. "I just realised something." She huffed in frustration. "Realised?" The Victorian spoke to herself, disbelievingly. "I don't know, Artie. I have trouble with expressing myself lately."

The other agent snorted. "You d-"

"I'm rather annoyed by any "H. G. Wells, famous writer, out of words" jokes. So don't even dare." She whispered, chuckled and then sobbed. Artie was sure that seeing HG so strangely emotional was harder to handle than any artifact case he had ever dealt with. Except maybe that one with the astrolabe. The astrolabe... Artie sighed and then looked at the writer next to him, who blew her nose again. She had helped him once. Maybe he could help her now.

"You wanna try?" He proposed carefully, trying to give his deep bariton a friendly hum. "I'm gonna listen." Slowly, Artie pulled out the tablet computer from under his armpit to put it down to the ground. Then he looked at the female agent attentively, folding his hands. Maybe it had been a bad decision for Abigail to finish therapy this early. It had been three years now. That really was... nothing... okay, Artie had to admit that he didn't know anything about therapy. Except for his own after Leena had died. Abigail had been really good at helping him then.

Helena sighed, leaned back in her armchair and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She was silent for a pretty long time. Artie felt awkward and didn't expect her to say anything anymore, when she started speaking:

"Maybe I am glad." She whispered, carefully, like she was trying to hear if the words sounded right.

"Okay." Artie murmured, puzzled.

"Today, during inventory, I looked at this watch." The Victorian continued. "And I realised that physical time travel is actually a possibility with the help of this watch. Then I thought of the day in Boone, where I saw Sarah... she struggled so hard with undoing something by using time travel. And it did only work when she realised it's not in her power to change things by travelling through time."

Artie nodded. He mentally noted how easily Helena spoke about her daughter in the future. Not like she existed already or like she was seeing her existence as an actual possibility. Just like a person who did something and to whom HG was distanced enough to judge her actions.

"And I thought of myself. I thought of Christina... pondered for an ever so short moment if I could take the watch and..." HG looked up at him. "...do something bad?"

Artie gazed at her, unsure about what to say.

"But then I realised that I don't want to." She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "It's really hard to express." The writer whispered, looking at the watch again. "It wouldn't even be possible with that watch. Don't get me wrong, if there was any chance to have a normal and healthy life with Christina, or to only visit and see her, I would take such opportunity at once. But not this way."

She looked at him. With his lips pursed, Artie watched the tears running freely down her cheeks. "I wouldn't want to do anything like this again. I can't... I know that I want to be with Myka. I love her. And as much as I love Christina, my daughter, I wouldn't want to exchange one for the other." Helena briefly blew her nose again. "I miss her. I miss her so much. But I am also happy with my current life, the people in it. So I'm glad I don't have to choose."

HG looked at Artie again. "Yes." She breathed quietly. "This might be the closest I can get to expressing what I am actually feeling. Now, I can only say that when I look at the watch, I feel rather glad and don't feel the need to use it. Maybe that's why I'm glad. I want to stay here."

When the writer had finished her speech, Artie held his breath. He knew he was supposed to say something, but he didn't even know if he understood what she was saying. Hesitantly, he gave it a try to summarise her words.

"So what you're saying is that you're pretty happy with your life and want to stay with us?" He suggested slowly.

She gave him a nod, just to sniff again. Awkwardly, Helena glanced down at her tissue. It didn't look much better than her old one, so Artie pulled a new one out of the pocket of his trousers to hand it over.

"When I was really young." He began, looking at the watch while she took the tissue. "We had this dog in school. It was my teacher's dog. He brought it with him to classes. The dog slept in front of our classroom." Artie cleared his throat. "I miss him."

Helena gave him a confused look before blowing her nose again. "The dog or the teacher?"

"The dog. I am speaking of the dog here. The teacher isn't important to my story. I miss the dog." Artie clarified grumpily.

"So... you're trying to compare my deceased daughter to a dog you liked in school?" HG inquired carefully, sounding slightly mortified.

"No!" Artie responded hurriedly. He reached for his tablet and got up from the armchair. Holding the tablet under his armpit, he buried his hands in his pockets, standing with his back to HG while looking at the watch on the shelf. "When I started going to that school I hated that dog. He was annoying, barked all the time. Even bit me once. I was really mad at that dog. But with time, I noticed that I started liking him. He was a good dog. I was really sad when he passed away. And I miss him a lot."

"So you're saying that there was a dog you didn't like at first." He could hear a slightly amused undertone in HG's voice. "And then you liked him so much that you're actually missing him now. And you forgave the dog for biting you?"

Artie nodded, not looking at her.

"So you're not comparing my deceased daughter to a dog." HG concluded. "You are comparing me to a dog."

The old agent spun around on his heels, glaring at her. Then he smiled briefly, before going away. "Yes." He stated. "And we will never talk about it again. I am still mad at you. You shot me!"

"Technically." HG giggled slightly while he walked away hastily. "Technically it was you."

"Ah for the love of-" Artie looked back, glowering at her. "You put on that damn vest because you knew somebody would try to shoot you. And I'm still mad, so let's never bring it up again."

"You like me, Artie!" Helena declared. The old agent groaned, turned around again and walked on. The time traveller jumped up from the armchair as well, following him.

"No. That's not what I am saying." The other agent rolled his eyes. "I'm saying that I got so used to you in the last years that I would slightly miss your presence if you were gone."

HG laughed loudly, it was a strange sound, but it caused him to grin. He turned his face away from her to hide it.

"You like me, Artie!" Helena laughed again.

"No. I'm just glad that you have decided you want to stay with us." Artie clarified, because this conversation was going out of control. "Because you're important for this team and the job we're doing."

"Of course." He heard the Victorian snort, so he glanced up at her. She was smiling, her tears almost completely dried away.

"And we won't talk about this any more." He stated emphatically.

"Certainly not." HG nodded eagerly.

"Good." He said and turned right at a crossroad of aisles.

"Artie?" The writer asked, sounding really careful. He just grunted in response. "I like you, too."

"HG, there is an artifact missing in the Darwin's aisle and we have to find it." He replied, business as usual, attempting to put as much annoyance into the sound of his words as he was feeling.


	7. Chapter 6

**Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta.**

**Songs used in this chapter: **  
**Fun. - All the pretty girls **  
**Modest Mouse - Float on**

**And of course I don't own a single word or chord of them. **

* * *

The same year

Adelaide excessively rolled her eyes, groaning as she shrugged. "Does it have to be an art exhibition?" She nagged, stepping from one foot to the other.

Myka snorted while she pulled out her wallet to be able to purchase the tickets for the art exhibition they were visiting.

Helena stared at the fourteen-year-old girl in disbelief. "I thought you would be glad to spend some time with us." HG pouted. Her girlfriend just smiled and placed her hand gently on the Victorian's shoulder.

"Spending time with you is not the problem." Adelaide exclaimed and pulled out her mobile phone. She busily started typing and didn't seem to notice that Helena and Myka were attentively watching her. Myka had assumed that the teenager wanted to clarify her problem, but instead, the girl only snickered at something on the screen of her phone.

"But?" Helena asked emphatically. She didn't seem to be satisfied that easily with such a small response by her something-like-a-stepdaughter.

Adelaide glanced up from her phone, typed something in by only using her thumbs and then put the device away again. "You two are." She suggested.

"What?" Helena simply gaped at the girl.

Now Myka felt resentful as well. She did spend too much time playing Scrabble with this girl to be accused of being a problem.

"What do you mean by that?" She blurted out.

"Admit it. You two have become really boring." Adelaide looked around the room, grumbling as she realised they still had to wait.

"Boring?" Helena's mouth hung open. "Excuse me? I am-"

"H. G. Wells, the woman who has written _The Time Machine_. I know, I know." Adelaide grinned briefly. "But that becomes a little boring after some time."

"I have literally travelled through time!" HG responded indignantly, obviously struggling with keeping her voice down.

"Last week, I made sure the president didn't get in contact with an artifact that reads your mind." Myka stated, raising a finger.

"Yeah, your _job_ is really interesting." Adelaide agreed. "But you two have become as boring as all the other married couples."

"We aren't married." Helena stated quickly.

"And we aren't people who get married." Myka added, equally quick.

"And still, you are as boring as though you were." The girl nodded and took a step closer to the reception. "Where is the adventure in that?"

"You and your bloody adventures." Helena huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She blew a lock of hair out of her face. "My job is an adventure on its own. I don't have to-"

She got interrupted by Adelaide, who leaned close to the woman at the reception. "Yes, hello." The girl smiled. "Me, a minor, and my two totally _boring moms_, please."

"We are not boring!" Myka squeaked.

"Did she just call us her mums?" Helena whispered into Myka's ear. The curly-haired woman carefully considered her words. Adelaide had indeed done so and Myka had absolutely no idea how Helena would react.

"Yes! I did." Adelaide rolled her eyes. "Because you are as boring as moms. Also, somehow, you both kinda are."

With her eyebrows raised, Helena smiled. Her girlfriend watched her worriedly for a few seconds, then she decided the Victorian was okay.

Myka smirked while paying the woman behind the counter. She took the tickets for the art exhibition, handed one to Adelaide and then leaned close to her girlfriend, looking at the girl who scuffed away to explore the exhibition on her own. "She's a teenager, Helena. Hormones and everything. She doesn't mean it this way."

"I am not boring." Helena whispered and leaned into the touch when the curly-haired woman pulled her close.

"Maybe we have to admit that we are a tiny bit boring?" The American chuckled. "Reading, playing scrabble, that's not really interesting for a teenager."

The Brit pouted again.

"But, Helena, let me assure you that I really enjoy being boring with you." Myka clarified and then pulled her girlfriend in a long lasting kiss.

* * *

"Have you ever thought of falling in love... and marrying... and I don't know. All that comes with it?" Helena looked at the Caretaker right next to her, genuinely interested. She struggled with talking to Claudia over the blaring music and people's chatter, so HG didn't understand why she had even started this conversation in the first place. But the redhead smiled at her and turned slightly to look at the Victorian.

They both sat at a table in this large hall in which Artie and Vanessa were celebrating their wedding. Helena was wearing a purple dress, similar to that one Claudia wore. Myka's dress was purple as well; the curly-haired woman was currently on the dance floor. It wasn't hard to guess that the three of them were bridesmaids. While waiting for Claudia's answer, Helena watched Myka dancing an awkward quickstep with Steve. HG's girlfriend was leading, of course, while HG's partner just shuffled round a little looking rather clumsy, yet he did his best to hold Myka's pace. The whole occasion of this party had made HG think – only a little bit – about this topic she was avoiding to talk about, and not only with Myka.

The Caretaker snorted, sipping her champagne. "No." She simply answered the Victorian's question. Helena looked at her in confusion. "No, you don't want to marry and have children or no, you didn't think about it?"

"HG." Slowly, Claudia shook her head, smiling brightly. "I'm 26 years old, and also I'm immortal. Falling in love and marrying is something I really don't think about because seriously... I'm too young for that and I'm also... married to the Warehouse." She furrowed her eyebrows, looking like she was listening to herself. "I think." Again, she took a sip, her eyes widening as she spotted Artie and Vanessa entering the dance floor for another time. After cheering to encourage the couple, she drew her attention back to the Victorian. "Have _you_?"

"Well, I've already fallen in love." The writer replied naturally, gulping down her scotch. "But I'm really not the kind of person who marries."

And with this, Helena hoped the conversation would be over. She didn't even know why she had said this. It seemed to be the fact that after all these years, Artie and Vanessa had married and that – yes – she, Helena felt quite happy about that. The whole family had waited for them to finally make this commitment. The agent and the physician were just adorable around each other. They clearly belonged together. Helena didn't know what "shipping" meant, a thing that Claudia kept mentioning rather often, but if it meant that you were glad about the fact that somebody else had found love, she could get comfortable with "shipping Artessa". However, when Claudia and Adelaide had suggested to bring up a shipping name for Myka and Helena, the couple protested immediately.

"But?" Claudia went into the topic. Of course she would. Helena sighed and give up on her hope to be able to avoid the topic. Why did she even bring this up?

"But there is a future Myka and I don't talk about because I told her I didn't want to."

She gave the Caretaker a meaningful look. "Because I wanted to explore it myself." The writer bit her lip and felt suddenly very disappointed by the fact that her scotch glass was already empty. They did serve a good scotch here. Vanessa knew how to throw a party.

"Sarah." The redhead narrowed her eyes at the Victorian ever so slightly, as though she knew that the writer's thoughts had just darted away, keeping away this topic. Helena nodded weakly. Now they were talking about it. And suddenly - maybe - Helena had the need to discuss it with the Caretaker. Claudia didn't only take care of the Warehouse in the last few years, although that was her only job. She had also made sure her family was alright. She had lain down with HG on that bloody ground when the Victorian was sure she would never be able to move or stand up again. Claudia had been there when Helena needed to cry and be weak. Helena couldn't help but admit that the redhead truly deserved the title 'Caretaker' she was wearing.

Helena could talk to the Caretaker about this topic. The girl was one of her closest friends, if not the closest. After all that time, Helena had finally found friends she could talk to, and one of them was now sitting in front of her discussing the fact that there possibly was a daughter in the writer's future. Because there had been time travel, there had been accidents, there had been a child called Sarah and a boy whose name she didn't know.

"I don't know if I want to know or not." Helena confessed, her gaze following Myka on the dance floor. "I'm... well, I'm a little curious. I have met Sarah, that undone day in Boone. Which means that I haven't really met her at all because that day has never happened."

Without looking at the Caretaker, HG grinned when she heard Claudia groan and whisper "Time travel shitfuckery."

"Well, " The writer continued. "I _remember_ meeting her. But I also remember being afraid of her. I remember what she looked like: frightening and incredibly tired, exhausted. And I'm still afraid of what could happen. Or what will happen." Frustrated, Helena sighed. "Time travel is a rather complicated topic. And I don't even know if I can handle a child. Or two. She has mentioned a brother that day. And I don't know if I can handle Sarah, since she frightened me so much that day."

Claudia surveyed her carefully, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly. Knowingly. The Caretaker looked like she knew what exactly HG was struggling with. "Is this fear of yours only connected to Sarah you have seen or to the consideration having her, or well, having a child at all?" She interrogated carefully. Now, Helena was certain that the Caretaker understood what she was trying to say. "Because we both know that the accident that was connected to this girl's time travel is undone and not a possibility anymore."

Helena met her eyes, thinking over the redhead's question. "That's right... you're right. I'm sorry." Confused, she scrunched her nose when Claudia frowned at her. "What is it, Claudia?"

"You didn't answer the question, HG." Claudia shrugged, taking another sip from her drink. She leaned closer and looked deeply in the older woman's eyes. "Yes, the accident is undone so you don't have to be afraid of that but are you afraid of a future that includes Sarah or not?", - The Caretaker demanded to know. She shifted her chair closer. "Because there's nothing wrong with being afraid of getting children or being bound to another person. Being afraid is okay. I am afraid all the time."

All of a sudden, Pete showed up next to their table. He was twisting his legs rhythmically to the music. "Hey, ladies." He waved at both of them. "Do you hear the music? It's dancing time, and I want to ask HG for a dance."

Claudia waved her hand in disapproval without looking at him. "Not now, Pete. She's going to dance with you later."

"Are you her mother or something, Claud?" The agent tilted his head in confusion, not stopping to twist. Helena avoided them both, staring at her empty glass.

"No, I'm the Caretaker, Agent Lattimer." Claudia grunted at him. "Just go away. Adelaide is over there." She pointed vaguely into the direction of the dance floor. "She's fourteen years old and really likes to dance, and I think she has a crush on you. Or take Mrs. Frederic, I believe she likes to twist too. _Just go_!" The Caretaker spoke faster than ever and glared at him with one eyebrow raised.

"Okay, okay." The man went away to the next table, where he grabbed Mrs. Frederic by the hand. The former Caretaker looked at him completely thunderstruck and shook her head. Pete gulped slowly before backing away and disappearing into the crowd of dancing wedding guests.

Helena laughed loudly while watching him. Maybe she would follow him later. Currently, she really wanted to have another glass of scotch.

"Helena." The Caretaker pulled the Victorian out of her thoughts. Claudia barely called her this, but when she did, she wanted to say something important. HG turned her head to meet her eyes.

"We're constantly afraid. Everyone always is." The redhead leaned closer. "But that's okay. We are allowed to be afraid."

Helena snorted, rolling her eyes. "What would you be afraid of, Claudia?"

The Caretaker immediately knitted her eyebrows. "HG Wells." She said strictly. "Are you frakking kidding me? I'm a 26-year-old responsible for a bunch of uncommunicative idiots." Forcefully, Claudia put her glass of champagne down on the table. "I take care of them every day. I handle a huge house filled with magical homicidal stuff. Two of my best friends died because of that. Only one of them got resurrected. You should remember that one, you watched him die and he is now your partner."

Briefly, Helena closed her eyes when her memory came back. She was rather glad of forgetting those pictures, now that she was working with Steve every day.

"I have a family of aforementioned uncommunicative idiots. I've spent a big part of my life in an institution, and I'm still anxious about the lack of social skills it left me with. I'm anxious about a lot, HG. I barely see my real brother. There is a lot I am afraid of, even though it looks like I'm slowly becoming Mrs. Frederic, all emotionless and distant. Helena, I'm afraid of becoming like her. I'm also afraid of being alone all my life because of my immortality." She took a deep breath. "I don't know what I'm going to do when every last one of you is dead and I am all on my own." For a short moment, the Caretaker was quiet, then she spoke on. "Even though I'm telling myself every day to stop aging in my early 30s and then, when I'm eventually disconnected from the Warehouse some day, finally go out and have a real life just for me. But HG, that's something I cannot be sure about." Claudia shook her head, looking at her glass and then at HG again. Helena swallowed thickly. She didn't expect Claudia to have an outburst of emotions like this. Maybe the scotch and champagne had loosened both of their tongues. With a quick motion, Claudia emptied her champagne and then looked at the writer again, nodding eagerly. "Because that's the future." She continued calmly. "And I'm afraid of the future. We're all afraid of the future."

Again, she inched closer, placing her glass on the table. "But the good thing – as Leena would put it – is that we can talk about that. We can share our fears with each other. And maybe we can face them with each other's support. That's why we are a family." Carefully, she rested her hand on HG's shoulder. The Victorian stared at Claudia, but didn't say anything. "Currently," Claudia continued, looking fondly into the time traveller's eyes. "I'm facing my sister figure's girlfriend who is sitting right in front of me, being afraid." The redhead chuckled. "Well, Artie's and Vanessa's rad party might not be the most appropriate place to be afraid. But I can understand her that the occasion of this party caused her fear. And so I'm sitting here, shushing away her girlfriend's partner even though he only asked for a dance, which is appropriate for a party. But I'm doing that because I know Helena G. Wells is afraid and really wishes to talk to someone about it. And I really want to be that person. Because she's also my family."

Helena viewed the girl in front of her with genuine admiration. Claudia Donovan, young, grown up without parents, raised by her brother and now suddenly responsible for this entire world they lived in.

"I'm afraid of the future." The Victorian confessed quietly. She was certain Claudia didn't hear her over the music, so she gulped and then said it again, louder this time. "I'm afraid of the future."

"We are all afraid of the future. And that's okay." The Caretaker pointed out, patting the Victorian's shoulder. "But HG." She smiled softly. "After all that time you have struggled with the past, you finally allowed yourself to think about the future. And I think that's something you can be proud of, even though you're afraid of it as hell."

HG allowed her thoughts to follow the Caretaker's lead. She was thought over her words. Then she smiled. "When did you become this wise?" The Victorian asked, smirking. "I mean..."

"I have always been wise, Agent Wells." The Caretaker clarified, taking her hand away from the older woman's shoulder. "But I think people never really noticed it because of my age."

The Victorian looked into her own glass. She thought about the day she had come back to the Warehouse. The day Claudia had invited her to a world of endless wonder. The girl had known that she was ready to come back before Helena did. "You're right." She agreed.

"So?" The Caretaker asked again. Helena shrugged, slowly raising her hands and dropping them again. "I'm considering to have a future with Myka. Not that I'm really eager about having children or anything comparable to them. We haven't even been to Greece even though we promised that to each other."

"Hmmmm" The caretaker made and then pouted. "Maybe I should talk to Artie... Well, at first he has to go on honeymoon with Vanessa. Then we have this other thing... Oh, HG, I think I can't let you two go before next summer."

Helena clicked her tongue. "That's not what we're talking about, Claudia, is it?" She grinned smugly. "I'm talking about the fact that I feel like I could face the future Myka has seen for us during her time travel. Or that I could consider having a future at all. And... oh god, now that I've said it, it sounds like I'm a woman who cannot wait to have another child with the woman she loves. Because I'm really not that woman who wishes for children."

Claudia chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Yes, you aren't. You and Myka are workaholics. Me and Artie would probably have to babysit Sarah a lot."

"Let's not talk about her like she already exists." The Victorian pleaded. "We only considering her existence."

"Would you prefer to homeschool her or do I have to make sure they will build a school near Univille?" The Caretaker asked, grinning.

"Claudia!" Helena laughed. She picked up her glass and stood up. "What?" The Caretaker looked up at her.

"I haven't drunk enough scotch to have this discussion with you." The Victorian proclaimed and turned around to head for the bar. But before she could reach it Pete pulled her close. "Ha!" He exclaimed and then took the glass out of her hand, placing it on the table next to them.

"What are you planning?" HG asked warily, only before she could protest, her friend had pulled her into the crowd on the dance floor. "Pete!" Helena ranted, when he started dancing around her and singing loudly along to the song: "_All the pretty girls on a Saturday night!"_

"Come on, old lady. We are here to have fun." Steve was suddenly behind her, spinning slowly. Myka approached her as well and laughed out loud when Claudia appeared on the dance floor. "That's a really dumb song!" She yelled while shaking rhythmically to it. "_And you break and take all the words from my mouth_!" Pete sung, jumping up and down. HG rolled her eyes when Myka took her in her arms and laughed loudly, looking at Pete and Steve as they joined hands to swirl around Vanessa and Artie, who tried to keep up with the really fast song. Vanessa laughed and gave them a thumbs up.

The Caretaker rose her arms, when the song ended and another rhythmic one started playing. She jumped from one leg to the other, dancing around the Victorian. Myka caught Steve again, spinning him around slowly. HG just laughed when Pete bumped his hip into hers. _"I backed my car into cop car the other day_" Claudia sung loudly, along with the song. "_Well he just drove off. Sometimes life's okay_." Slowly, Helena shook her head, grinning brightly when Pete took Claudia's hands to twist with her across the floor. Myka and Steve laughed, taking Helena in the middle. The Victorian met Myka's eyes and smiled. She started nodding her head to the music. "_We'll all float on okay." _Claudia roared loudly. The lyrics of that song were rather stupid, but Helena didn't mind it when she started swaying her hips, taking her girlfriend into her arms again. And so they all danced, as friends, as partners, as lovers but before all that: as a family.

"_Now, don't you worry, we all float on alright."_

* * *

Sarah stood inbetween all those people on the dance floor at Artie's and Vanessa's wedding and smiled. She was invisible to them. But she smiled brightly while watching Helena's grin when Pete spun her around. The time traveller's heart felt warm when she noticed love shining in Myka's eyes, as her mother looked at her girlfriend. And she laughed loudly when she saw Steve and Claudia high five and then twist around. They just looked so full of joy in this particular moment.

The Caretaker of Warehouse 14 knew that their life hadn't always been so joyful. That each of them carried their small bundle of anxieties, anger, fear, desperation and grief. Horrible memories were part of their lifes. But they also knew that they belonged together, as a family. As friends, who knew how the others were feeling, even though they sometimes struggled with talking about it. Every last one of them had their past. But they all had a future, a wonderful one. And even though they weren't aware of it right now, they could actually be happy.

But when Sarah felt a presence close behind herself, she still didn't dare to turn around. She pursed her lips and inhaled deeply through the nose.

"I still don't understand." She whispered quietly. "I don't know what I am supposed to do."

"What you are supposed to do?" The familiar voice asked. The time traveller was unable to recognise the voice's emotion.

"You have to tell me." The writer murmured.

"I can only-" Sarah interrupted the voice, still not turning around. "Yes." She spoke quietly. "Yes. Show me more."

And so the pictures in Sarah's head started scrolling again. The tape was fast forwarded, stopped, went on running. The Caretaker closed her eyes, and when she opened them again she was standing in Artie's office in Warehouse 13. The old agent was sitting at the desk, typing something into the computer. Right next to him there were a few huge boxes. One of them was smaller than others, and empty.

Sarah tilted her head questioningly, eager to find out what she was supposed to see.

* * *

**End of Part 1.**


	8. Part 2 - Chapter 1

**Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta.**

* * *

**Part 2: All we can do is wait**

**Chapter 1**

2018

January

With a triumphant "Got it! Fina-frakking-ly!", Claudia entered Artie's office from the Warehouse's gallery. In her hands she was holding a copper tea kettle, swinging it lazily.

"Gosh." She grumbled while placing it on Artie's desk. The Warehouse agent looked up at her. "I hate artifacts which move all by themselves. It's so annoying that they don't only deserve my Claudia Donovan hate, but also my whole Caretaker of Warehouse 13 hate." Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Claudia glared at the object in question with one eyebrow raised.

Apparently, Artie had recognised the kettle. Quickly, he rolled backwards with his chair. "Cover that monster in goo before it starts to wreak havoc!" He yelled, shielding himself with his hands.

"It won't bite you, grumps!" The Caretaker only rolled her eyes, touching the kettle with her fingertips. "My hands are gloved. I'm all wishlessly happy, there won't be any ferrets." She smirked, noticing how warily her friend eyed her hands. "Just keep your cool. I will also be gone in a few, along with the kettle to bring it to the Regents." Now, she smiled brightly, leaning closer to him. "Unless you have any hidden desires to fullfill, Arthurio."

"I'm happy with Vanessa." The supervisor agent kept his distance from her and the kettle, but dropped his hands. "I don't need anything. Except for ... maybe a salary increase because I still have to handle you."

"Oh Artie." In faux delight, Claudia pressed her palm to her chest. "That was the meanest thing you said to me since you've married Vanessa. I'm relieved." Carefully, Claudia picked up the kettle from the desk, walking over to the wooden boxes she had set up in the corner. "I was worried that Vanessa had a bad influence on you. You're becoming soft."

"Never." Artie snorted, moving his chair to keep away from the kettle. "What do the Regents even want with the kettle and all that other stuff you collected?" He demanded, pointing at the boxes.

"Fancy Regents tea party, Artie-fact." Claudia dropped the kettle into the small wooden box on the floor, causing a loud clash. Artie jumped at the noise. "We're drinking the good old Earl Grey, eat shortbread and talk about how good it feels to be in charge and how Warehouse agents aren't invited to our party."

Disappointedly, Artie sighed. "You won't tell me."

"Of course not." The redhead shot him a grin. "Don't say Mrs. F. did ever tell you."

"No, she didn't." The agent looked at her. "But sometimes I wished she would."

Slowly, Claudia shrugged, raising her hands. "Call me Caretaker."

The Umbilicus' door opened, revealing Abigail wearing a coat and a scarf which was wrapped around not only her shoulders and neck, but her whole head. There was only a tiny slid for her eyes. "The weather is torturous." She declared, dusting the snow off her shoulders. With a loud thud, followed by a equally loud rattle, the Innkeeper dropped a huge bag to the ground.

"Hi Abs!" Claudia waved at her and then plopped herself down on Artie's desk. The agent looked at her, annoyed. "Yep, I know." The Caretaker agreed, nodding. "Sometimes, I'm so happy that I don't have to face 'the outside' anymore if not particularly necessary. And that I don't need it to get from A to B." With genuine interest, she eyed the bag Abigail has brought with her. "That's a really huge bag you've got there. What's in it?"

Abigail briefly stopped unwrapping her scarf-clad head. "I've been to the flea market in Pierce." She chuckled and then continued undressing herself. "People are actually doing this in winter, did you know that? It's a mystery to me." Carelessly, she dropped the scarf on the couch in the corner. Then she started opening her coat. "But I needed some things for the B&B and since Leena had this... well, how should I put it... 'antique' style for the decoration... and as I don't want to disrupt it, I thought I could take a look at what they are offering there. It's mostly kitsch, but I think a found a few good pieces." Under Artie's wary eyes, the former therapist dropped her coat next to her scarf on the couch. "Oh and Claud, it's good to see you here." Abigail waved her hand at Artie when she passed him, walking towards the Caretaker. "I have some questions about those artifacts the Regents asked me to take a look at."

Claudia chuckled when she noticed how puzzled Artie was looking in reaction to the former therapist's words. "The Regents asked you to take a look at artifacts in the Warehouse for them?"

Again, Abigail waved her hand. "There are things a former therapist can judge, Artie." Claudia explained, winking at him. "Next time they need your opinion on... say... grumpy old pianist artifacts, we gonna ask you."

"When exactly did it become certain that Claudia knows more about Warehouse matters than I do?" The agent looked with widened eyes at Abigail, who chuckled and patted his shoulder.

"Yeah, gramps, somewhere inbetween 'hold that arm still, Claudia, so I can tie the ribbon properly' said by your wife and 'Mrs. Frederic is in pension' by the Regents." The Caretaker stated, jumping down from the top of the desk.

"Why did she even leave so suddenly?" Artie questioned, speaking more to himself than to her. The Caretaker pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, desperatly trying to make up an excuse for her mentor.

The Umbilicus' door opened again. This time it were Steve and Helena who entered, both covered in snow from top to bottom.

_Saved by the bell_, Claudia thought while she and the others in the room greeted them.

HG shuddered, her coat reaching under her nose, her head almost completely hidden under a big, red wool hat. "This weather is an insult." She grunted, taking a few steps further into the room to place a small static bag on the Caretaker's old desk.

Steve shook his head that was also covered with a wool hat. He sent snow flying through the room. "One shiny little artifact." He explained to the others while dusting off his jacket. "I wanted to tell it that Christmas is over but it didn't want to listen."

"Actually." Helena looked up at her tall partner. "It talked rather a lot. Apparently, it liked hearing itself talk."

Smirking, Claudia exchanged a meaningful look with Steve, who stiffled a laughter. "Yeah the artifact." He whispered, causing the writer to shrug. "What?" She asked, but the Caretaker and HG's partner just shook their heads. "Nothing." Quickly, Claudia suggested Abigail to follow her into the Warehouse. Before she could walk after her, Abigail froze. "HG? Steve? Claudia and I have a thing to do and it will take some time. Could you two maybe take my bag with you to the B&B?" The former therapist looked at the Victorian in particular, who was rearranging her hat. "Bag?" The writer asked absent-mindedly.

"It's some old stuff from the flea market." Claudia explained, giving her colleagues a faux-serious look. "We all know that Abs is trying for years now to match Leena's decoration habits." She shielded her mouth from Abigail with her hand. "But fails poorly." Claudia chuckled when the former therapist shot her a glare.

"Alright." The writer took a step closer to the bag. "I shall take it with me." With a slight groan, she picked up the bag. "Bloody hell, this thing is heavier than I thought."

Abigail giggled. "I am sorry."

"Do you need any help, old lady?" Steve inquired, opening the Umbilicus' door for her.

"That's the second 'old lady' I get from you this week, Jinksy." HG hissed at him, waddling closer to the door while heaving the bag up to strap it on her shoulder. "Another one and I shall tell you the detailed story of how exactly I did research on amino acids for The Island of Doctor Monroe."

Claudia and Abigail burst out in laughter when Steve's eyes widened. "Oh no. Not that story. I heard that one already. Three times actually."

"To the B&B, then!" They heard Helena's voice from the Umbilicus in which she had disappeared. Steve bowed his head. "Yes, your majesty."

Then he closed the door. Claudia and Abigail started chatting and turned around to leave the office and enter the Warehouse's gallery. Artie was right behind them because "I really want to know what you two are doing."

* * *

A few hours later when Abigail had left for the B&B, Claudia started closing the boxes in the corner of Artie's office. When she took the lid off the small one, she noticed that the box was empty. Annoyed, Claudia rolled her eyes. "That thing deserves the hate of every person in existence." She whispered, turning around again to go back into the Warehouse. She had to chase the tea kettle once again. The caretaker really hoped it would be easier to find it this time.

* * *

Steve and Helena were alone in the B&B. HG's friend had decided to take a long and hot bath and walked up the stairs immediately. After getting rid of her coat, hat and scarf, Helena entered the B&B's kitchen, placing Abigail's bag on the counter. Genuinely interested in what the former therapist had bought for them, she opened it and looked at the objects. Carefully, the Victorian placed one object after another on the counter, sighing at the sight of each. Most of it was kitsch. Then the writer found something that looked at least a little interesting: an old tea kettle. It was big and made of copper. She smiled fondly.

Helena had always liked the electric water boiler they had. It was contemporary and fast. But sometimes, she thought it was missing its soul. Making tea was an art and the modern Americans she was living with had no sense for art.

So HG took a look inside the kettle to check on its condition. It was a perfectly fine tea kettle. The Victorian wondered that Abigail had actually been able to buy something like this on a flea market. A little dusty, but nothing you couldn't wash away. This was what HG did, before boiling water to empty the kettle out right afterwards. She had learned about germs when she had done research on the century she woke up in, so she didn't want to be in any risk.

The Victorian was cold and it was 5pm. Far too early to go to sleep, but the perfect time to make tea. And this was what Helena did. She was craving for tea. Myka and Pete were on their way home from Pierce, it would take them some time. Time HG could use on reading and drinking tea while waiting for her girlfriend. Looking at the snow outside, Helena really hoped they were driving home carefully.

So Helena used the tea kettle. She knew the water boiler was as good as it and probably faster, but she didn't care. _If you have a chance to bask a tiny bit in nostalgia, you should use it_, she decided. When the water was finally boiling on the stove, Helena smiled at the whistling noise it caused. She poured the water over her prepared loose leaf black tea into the modern teapot Myka had bought her. It was able to keep the tea in it hot for hours. Not that the time traveller needed hours to empty the pot, but it was a nice catch.

Smiling, Helena put the empty tea kettle back on the stove, closed the tea pot and then left the kitchen, taking the pot with her. After this artifact hunt, the cold weather and Steve's mocking, she really deserved a cup of tea while sitting on her and Myka's bed, reading a good book.

* * *

More than an hour later, Myka rushed into their bedroom, shivering and trembling. Helena looked up at her, smirking.

"The weather is horrible." The curly-haired woman proclaimed and instantly pulled her jumper over her head.

"Good evening, darling." Helena announced her own presence. "I love you, too. It's lovely to see you."

"Give me a second." Myka replied from under the jumper, muffled. Then she pulled it off entirely. "My clothes are completely wet." Helena gave her a smug smile while she let her gaze roam over the taller woman's body, not saying a single word. Quite awkwardly, Myka shimmied out of her trousers. Then, she placed both the trousers and the jumper on the heating. With a groan, she turned around to press her backside against the heating as well, still shivering. The American's lower lip quivered. Her gaze met her girlfriend's, who simply chuckled. Not taking her eyes off from Myka's body – The American was only wearing her underwear now, to HG's pleasure – the Victorian placed her book on the night stand and took her cup of tea. Admiring Myka's goosebumps on her upper arms, Helena took a sip, ever so slowly, clearly enjoying the sight.

"That bad?" She purred.

Myka shook her head, apparently ignoring the older woman's question. "Is that tea hot?" She demanded instead and before Helena could respond to her question, her girlfriend had already crossed the room and taken the cup out of the Victorian's hands. Humming happily, Myka took a huge sip, causing Helena to grunt in disapproval. "Hey!" She exclaimed, sitting up in bed and shifting on her knees. "That's mine." With nimble fingers, she opened the younger woman's hands and took the cup back. "I have plenty of tea in the pot. But you will have your own cup. I need mine." She smirked, taking a sip from it herself.

Myka just looked down on the bed, her eyes widening. "Please tell me you turned on the electrical blanket."

"Of course I did." HG replied naturally, placing her cup on the night stand again. "The weather is terrible."

With quick space-eating motions, Myka flopped herself onto the bed and then snuggled into the blankets. Helena had to shift a little to avoid getting hit by an elbow or a knee. When the American had wrapped herself in the blanket, she hummed happily again. Slowly, Helena lay down next to her, facing the younger woman.

Myka smiled fondly. "Hello." She whispered, just to lean closer and kiss the Victorian.

Helena pulled the younger woman closer, reaching her fingertips through her curls. "That really is a better greeting." She breathed between two kisses. "Considering the fact I haven't seen you in two weeks."

The time traveller yelped when she felt her girlfriend's hands ghost over her upper arms and shoulders. "Oh god! You are really cold." Quickly, she pulled away, backing up a little. "What happened?"

Myka groaned loudly. "Pete decided we should have a snowball fight in front of the Warehouse." The American shifted closer to Helena. "And then he pushed me into a big heap of snow. I rubbed snow into his face in return. I guess he's currently taking a really hot shower in the Warehouse's bathroom." Carefully, Myka sneaked an arm around the Victorian's shoulder, and then another one. Helena shrieked when Myka pressed her whole body into hers. "Myka, I just got warm myself. Steve and I came home from Sioux Falls a rather short moment before you did."

"Yes, you're really warm." Myka agreed, her voice rasping while she nuzzled her nose against Helena's neck. "And I am so so cold."

"I agree." Helena bit her lip to keep herself from jumping. "You really are."

"And I haven't seen you in two weeks." Myka added before she covered the Victorian's neck with her lips. The American let her hands roam over Helena's shoulder again, causing the Brit to narrow her eyes knowingly. "Aha." She chuckled quietly. "So you aren't only cold but also-"

"Two weeks." The younger woman interrupted her. Helena hummed in reaction to the feeling of the taller woman's tongue caressing her earlobe. Carefully, she cupped the American's cheeks and pulled her face up to passionately kiss her.

* * *

Myka's tender touches caused Helena to arch her back, eyes closed, her heels digging into the matress they lay upon. In the years they had spent with each other, Helena's always present admiration of making love with Myka had steadily grown, along with Myka's skills to please her. HG loved what Myka could cause in her – and what she could cause in Myka. The curly-haired woman had wholly memorised Victorian's body and with that, she knew every way to make HG tremble in bliss.

That was the younger woman's tongue on Helena's skin. Those were her lips, her moving fingertips... The American let them explore every inch of the Victorian's body while she rested between the time traveller's legs.

That was the pull inside HG's lower stomach, that was... On its own volition, the Victorian's mouth opened for a throaty moan. She had to give into the feeling Myka caused in her. And while Helena's toes curled and the muscles in her tighs started contracting without her control, she pulled weakly at Myka's curls, helplessly but still feeling safe. Myka was the anchor that kept Helena's hips in place and also the cause why HG lifted them up. Closer... always closer to Myka's hot mouth. While giving the writer time to come down from her high, Myka covered the skin on Helena's thighs with soft kisses. But the Victorian didn't want to calm down. She couldn't bear to, something was...

Helena needed Myka closer, she wanted the American further up to look in her eyes, trying to get more of her... Her lips on her own mouth, not on her thighs. HG wanted... but currently, she couldn't express her own desire. Instead, she continued pulling on Myka's curls. The younger woman looked up at her, smiling when she seemed to understand the older woman's need. Myka crawled up, hovering over the Victorian's body. "Helena." She whispered breathlessly. Asking a silent question, caring.

"I'm-" HG cupped Myka's cheeks and gently pulled her down, feeling the American's body fully on her own now. She hummed at the feeling and started to rock her hips into Myka's. When soft and wet skin met, Helena possessively kissed Myka, her tongue delving into the younger woman's mouth with a need and desire she couldn't explain. The Victorian tasted herself on Myka's lips and tongue then, but this still wasn't what she needed, even though it sent the heat flush through her body once again. Helena needed Myka, she needed her up here. But she couldn't express what she was seeking for by pulling the American up. Instead, she just rocked her hips into Myka's, throwing her head back when she felt the delightful friction.

The younger woman whispered her name again, breathed it against her lips and the sweat on them. She sounded worried, but Helena shook her head. "I'm alright." She murmured, pulling the curly-haired woman's bottom lip between her teeth. Her own hips jerked forward in reaction to the quiet Myka's moan, losing their rhythm. "I'm just alright, Myka."

HG opened her eyes, looking up at the younger woman. She smiled when she found Myka's eyebrows furrowed. The American considered her worriedly. "I'm fine, Myka." Helena whispered again, grinding her hips carefully against Myka's. The American sighed, her eyes snapped shut. "But ... I need you... I need you." Helena murmured quietly. Gently, Helena pulled Myka's head down again to link their lips.

Apparently, her girlfriend understood what HG was asking for. She shifted, and then, Helena felt Myka's hand between her legs, cupping her gently before she started thrusting her fingers slowly. "Yes." The word fell from Helena's lips. She rested her fingertips into the skin on Myka's toned back. "Yes, Myka."

This still wasn't enough. This still wasn't enough Myka. The American was covering her, Helena could feel her inside her, but this still wasn't enough. The Victorian was searching for something, but she couldn't tell at all what it was. There was just this unbearable need, the desire to have Myka as close as possible... to have as much of her as possible. When Helena rocked her hips forward another time, her thigh that rested inbetween the other woman's legs made contact with the American's core. The younger woman moaned in response.

And Helena at last understood the desire in herself. While she enjoyed Myka's constant gentle and passionate touches – because she enjoyed how Myka loved to give her pleasure – she reached her own hand down to touch the curly-haired woman and caress her carefully. Myka gasped in reaction, leaned her body into the touch, and yes... yes... that was it...

Helena opened her eyes, finding the younger woman's eyebrows in a knit. But this time, her head was thrown back, and her moans escaping from her mouth. This was it. Gently and lovingly, Helena started stroking Myka. She enjoyed the little noises Myka made.

"Myka." Helena whispered her lover's name while she arched her neck and lost command over her foot that found its way up to rest on the American's back.

"Myka." She murmured the name with her voice trembling, when she felt the sweat pool on her own chest. When she felt Myka shudder against her own skin, but not because of the cold of the weather but because she was about to come undone in reaction to the Victorian's touches.

"Myka." Helena groaned that name when she felt her own muscles tremble for another time, and that easily welcomed pull in her lower stomach that would have been able to completely lift her from the bed if Myka's frame wouldn't have been there to steady her and keep her in place.

Then HG wasn't able to speak her name anymore, because the bliss of her own orgasm rushed through her veins, leaving shivers and trembles and release everywhere. Release.

Helena's eyes opened, finding Myka's. She looked deeply into them, watched Myka groan her own relief into the cold air of the early evening. The Victorian's lips parted, but she didn't make a sound. Instead she just looked into her lover's eyes, trembling and quivering under the touch of Myka's body.

* * *

**All hail the mighty chapter 7 rule! Also: After two parts of this series where people kept guessing that Helena's pregnant (seriously, peeps? In TLS already? Who would write stuff like this?), I can proudly confirm that this is the reason why Paul keeps calling Sarah "Ferret" and "kettle kid". **


	9. Part 2 - Chapter 2

**I have made a tiny continuity mistake but already corrected it. The clock and watches aisle in which _The Watch _is placed and in which Artie has found Helena crying is indeed Aisle A113 and not Aisle B304. Aisle B304 is the aisle in which they found the Jumanji board game in Time Leaves scars. As I said, I corrected it already in the other chapters. I am sorry. Maybe I should start taking notes...**

**Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta. :)**

* * *

Pete was shouting loudly. When Myka's woken up from the sound of his voice, she groaned, rolling over to Helena's side of her bed, hand groping for her girlfriend. After a few attempts the American found Helena curled up dangerously close to the edge of the matress. Carefully, Myka shifted to get closer to the Brit and then, she softly nuzzled her nose against the Victorian's neck. She did all of this without opening her eyes.

Hearing Pete shout in the morning was something she had become used to while living with him for about nine years. The curly-haired woman could only guess why he was shouting, - he'd probably broken another of his waffle-making or waffle-eating records. And Myka did not care about how many pastries he could stuff in his mouth or pile on his plate. It seemed Helena had gotten used to shouting in those four years she was living with him now as well, because she didn't react to it at all. Instead she just kept on snoring quietly, a thing Myka had also become used to in four years of their relationship. Tenderly, the American started embracing her girlfriend, resting her lips against the warm skin on Helena's neck. She could stay like this forever. The bed was warm, the morning quiet until Pete had started-

Suddenly Steve began shouting loudly, too. He even drowned out Pete's voice. Instantly Abigail joined their unleashed cacophony as well. In thought, Myka admitted that this was becoming a tiny bit unsettling. But whatever the reason, it was not bad enough to get her out of bed.

Apparently, the other people's voices had woken up HG.

"Something is incredibly wrong downstairs." She commented dryly on the odd behaviour of her friends, causing Myka to nod in agreement. The American grunted briefly, her eyebrows in a knit. But she refused to open her eyes. If she would do that, she could as well get up completely and this whole being-in-bed-with-Helena situation was far too compelling.

"Are we supposed to start caring?" The Brit inquired carefully, actually sounding as though she was genuinely interested in what was going on.

Pete shouted again, closer to the stairs, apparently addressing Myka. No, he was certainly doing so. He was calling her name. With an irritated groan, the curly-haired woman buried her head under her bedsheet.

The Victorian next to her chuckled slighty. "It seems." She whispered and then poked her girlfriend in the side.

Peeking her head out from under the sheet again, Myka raised it from the pillow but still didn't open her eyes. She would win this fight against the daylight. If she could ignore the new day long enough...

"YES?" Myka shouted back at Pete. She wouldn't leave this bed unless it was important. Helena chuckled quietly, turning around while covering her head and ears with a pillow.

To Myka's surprise, it was Steve who yelled back at her.

"COME DOWN HERE! BOTH OF YOU! AND MAKE IT QUICK!" The brunette's eyes snapped open in alarm. If Steve was demanding them to come down, then indeed there was something incredibly wrong going on downstairs. Slowly, the curly-haired woman rose from the bed, wrapping the bed sheet around her naked chest. Apparently, HG seemed to disapprove the lack of fabric on her. She grunted loudly, pulling the electric blanket up to her neck.

Myka was about to leave their room, but then shook her head and turned around. Quickly, she bent over the bed again, pulling firmly at the blanket that covered her girlfriend.

"They said both of us." She proclaimed, pulling stronger now.

Helena opened a single eye and gazed at her with the annoyance of twelve people.

"Both of us." Myka repeated, grinning in faux-encouragement.

Carelessly, HG dropped herself out of the bed to the ground. After she had stood up, she headed for their drawer, walking around the room naked. Myka sighed deeply when she heard Pete yell again. "We're coming!" The curly-haired woman shouted back. _After my girlfriend is done making a show, _she added in thought, watching the Victorian pull one of Myka's shirts out of a drawer to put it on herself. The shirt was long enough to cover HG's butt, and it seemed Helena had decided that this was indeed enough fabric to wear in the morning. With a smirk, the Brit passed Myka on the way out of the room. Immediately Myka followed her, still wrapped in the bed sheet.

In the kitchen, there was one of the huge emergency goo buckets they kept in the closet under the stairs. Drowsily Myka concluded that apparently there was an emergency, now that somebody had taken the bucket out. Her deduction skills didn't work that well today morning, so it was a big mystery for her to see Abigail sitting on top of the bucket with her eyes widened, looking unsettled.

"What happened?" Myka didn't stop staring at Abigail, but clutched the fabric on her chest more tightly to make sure she was completely covered. From his position next to Abigail on the bucket, Steve glared at Myka and Helena with a knowing smirk. Meanwhile, Pete was pacing through the room, talking to the Farnsworth in his hands. "It's in the B&B, Claud. What is it doing in the B&B? Come over here!"

Well, this wasn't the weirdest thing Myka and Helena had ever come down to in the morning. But the curly-haired woman concluded, judging from Pete's nervosity, that there was indeed an emergency. And well, the goo bucket told Myka that it was obviously an artifact-related one. She smiled at the feeling of her deduction skills slowly coming back.

While Myka still stood in the kitchen's doorway, Helena passed her to fling onto one of the kitchen chairs. She carefully watched the former therapist on the goo bucket, with one eyebrow raised, then she gave her partner next to Abigail an equally interested look. Steve shrugged. Myka cleared her throat.

"What is so important that we had to come down here?" The curly-haired woman asked slowly, getting annoyed by the fact that nobody had told her yet.

By the end of her sentence, Claudia appeared out of nowhere. Myka and Helena jumped, Steve shrieked, Abigail yelped. Pete did nothing. They were slowly getting used to Claudia's behaviour to make a rather sudden entrance. Now that Pete had actually demanded her to come, he didn't get bothered by that. "Where is it?" The Caretaker demanded quickly, anxiously looking at Pete.

"In the bucket." Her friend replied, pointing at the utterly worried Abigail. His gaze finally found Myka and Helena. Pete blinked for a few seconds, looking quite confused by the women's choice of clothes, then he turned towards Claudia.

"Has anybody wished for anything?" The Caretaker pulled them all out of their thoughts, walking through the room with a concerned frown. She suggested Abigail to climb down from the bucket. The innkeeper obeyed instantly.

"Okay, hello." Feeling pretty desperate, Myka raised her right hand and then glanced at Helena, whose chin rested on her own hand on the table. The Victorian looked like she was about to fall asleep again. "I think you were assuming already that you called Helena and me out of bed. Where we could still be since we came home from artifact hunt yesterday and we have a day off after that. So could you maybe do us a favour and tell us what's going on so we can go back up there again?"

"Did you wish for anything?" Pete asked with the corner of his mouth while eyeing Claudia – who carefully opened the goo bucket. She shot an anxious glance over the bucket's rim and then nodded. "Looks safe. Well done, Pete."

"What the deuce is going on?" Helena's voice was strict and loud and caused four heads to turn at her at once. Myka chuckled in reaction. The Victorian was obviously tired and annoyed.

"Wish-granting tea kettle!" Claudia replied as though it would explain everyone's behaviour.

HG raised a single eyebrow, looking confused. But Myka instantly understood and gasped in shock. "What?" Quickly, Myka jumped towards the bucket, her bed sheet waving by the force of her motion. "No!" The curly-haired woman cast a worried glance into the goo bucket. There, in the purple, viscous liquid, rested the ferret kettle, looking as innocent as always.

Swallowing thickly, Myka backed up again. "What is it doing in the B&B?"

"I'm asking that myself." The Caretaker glanced at her from the side and then pointed at Pete. "The Petester found it on the stove, filled with water. Yesterday, I chased it in the Warehouse to bring it to the Regents. Then I thought I lost track of it. But now that it's in the B&B, I can tell why I couldn't find it anymore."

"Wait. It's an artifact?" Carefully pulling the hem of her long shirt down, Helena stood up from her chair and bent over the bucket.

"Yeah, Helena, it's a ferret-granting kettle." Myka explained. "Well, actually it's a wish-granting kettle, but if your wish is impossible, it grants you a ferret."

The Victorian pursed her lips. "Well, maybe I can explain what it's doing in the Inn." She looked a little like she suddenly was in pain. "Abigail, you asked me to take the bag with your flea market things with me to the B&B."

The keeper of the Inn inhaled the air sharply through her teeth. "Uh, that's... it's moving by itself and... uuuuh."

"I have never seen this kettle before in my life so I assumed it was a normal tea kettle." The writer shrugged. "So, it grants wishes and... ferrets?" She asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"Did somebody wish for anything?" Pete asked, still pacing through the room. Five people shrugged, shaking their heads.

"Well, I had tea yesterday evening." Helena mentioned. Claudia's head turned quickly, her eyes widened. "You made tea with the ferret kettle?"

Myka made a disgusted noise. "Uh, Helena, Pete was in that kettle." The Victorian looked at her, confused. "What?"

"Pete, the Ferret." Pete strictly declared with one pointing finger. "Myka produced a ferret with an ungrantable wish when we have just arrived at the Warehouse."

"You had a ferret?" Helena eyed Myka, looking puzzled. Myka only nodded in reaction, pursing her lips.

"Where is it now?" The Victorian pouted a little. The younger woman looked up into her eyes. "Well." She whispered quietly. "Where Dickens is, too."

"Oh." The Victorian looked down to the ground.

"You made tea with the ferret kettle?" Claudia asked again, completely thunderstruck.

"Well, I didn't wish for anything. I'm wishlessly happy, see." The writer waved her hand around the room. "No ferrets. No wishes." She walked over to Myka to wrap her hand around her lower back. "And since the emergency is over, I would prefer to go to bed again." She leaned over to Myka, who shuddered. "Or into the shower, your decision." Helena smirked as she seemed to sense Myka shiver.

When the two women had left the room, Claudia looked worriedly at the kettle. "She has made tea with it." She muttered again, flabbergasted.

"Well, there were no wishes granted." Steve patted her shoulder carefully. "And the artifact is neutralised."

Pete scrunched his nose. "Well, the ferrets and wishes don't disappear after the kettle gets neutralised."

Claudia closed the bucket, motioning Abigail to sit back down on it. "Stay here until I've found a way to safely bring it to the Regents. Oh, and I would prefer if we won't tell Artie anything about it. He would probably burn down the B&B or something. He's really afraid of that kettle."

* * *

February

Helena was feeling strangely excited since she had entered the Warehouse today. She had the constant urge to smile and to hop up and down in delight, even though there was no apparent reason for that. The Warehouse smelled like apples as though somebody had dropped a whole bottle of bathing supplies somewhere and as much as the Victorian liked the scent, she was annoyed by it now.

Apparently, the Warehouse was happy about something and for some reason, and strangely enough, Helena was able to feel it. The Victorian had never understood why exactly she was capable of smelling apples. Myka wasn't, Pete wasn't ... only Claudia was the other person that Helena was aware of smelling apples.

Maybe the Warehouse actually prefered some people in the team in comparison to the others or...

Sometimes, Helena wanted to guess, she wanted to know, to understand the reason she and Claudia were able to smell apples. To ask Mrs. Frederic if she could do that, too. But as often, she just didn't want to know. She just liked her life the way it was. So she didn't have to think about the past and a "what if I would never have been bronzed?"

The Warehouse liked H. G. Wells. And currently, it was excited. Certainly.

And so Helena tried to keep herself from giggling every now and then while she checked on the condition of a sink that was standing in aisle A114 and had an unlimited water supply. She inhaled the air deeply to calm down before telling Steve – who had the checklist — that this sink was indeed dusty and old and didn't look like it would start running away anytime soon.

_Thud._ A noise! Helena craned her neck into different directions to find the source. But she couldn't even tell from which direction it had come. She shrugged and looked down at the sink again to check if she could close the valve. She couldn't.

_Thud. Thud._ Again. Helena was rather sure it had come from her right side, so she looked down the aisle, finding Jinksy looking at her in suspicion over the rim of his checklist.

"HG?" He asked, drawing out her initials unnecessarily long.

"Did you hear that?" The Victorian shot a glimpse at her partner, who shrugged. "Nope."

"There was a noise." Helena responded, pulling back from the sink, to walk slowly towards Steve, but staring at the empty space behind him.

"A noise in the Warehouse." Her friend rolled his blue eyes when she passed him. "What a rarity."

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

The noise was fading aw– No! Not fading. Moving away. Out of the aisle. Without another thought, HG followed it. "HG?" Steve asked, worriedly.

"Shhhht. I am following the noise." The Victorian shushed him. Her partner rolled his eyes again and followed her. "Did you touch something?" He suggested. "Because I don't want to do the paperwork if you touched something. It's your turn this time."

"Don't you hear that?" The inventor looked at him, quickening her pace.

"Nope. But I'm right behind you to watch and judge if you need help or if I should cover you in goo." Steve replied, a little out of breath because Helena had started jogging now. When she was out of aisle A114, she moved left, entering aisle A113, filled with watches and clocks. When the Victorian passed a certain shelf, she averted her eyes from an certain object on it. She didn't want to think about it now. The noise was still there but moving away quickly. HG started running, right after it. Faster and faster. _Thud, thud, thud, thud._ Wood meeting wood. It was like somebody was walking rather fast, wearing only one of those Dutch wooden shoes on a wooden floor.

Leaving aisle A113, HG jogged through another one, Steve right behind her.

"It's moving away!" The Victorian briefed him and he snorted in reaction. "It's pretty fast, HG!"

The Darwin aisle. HG furrowed her eyebrows while running, confused. She was following a suspicious noise through the Warehouse. Aisle A019 was the next aisle and right after that...

Helena stopped running. She stopped so forcefully that she almost fell over, gripping the shelf right next to her in the last second. Steve stopped close behind her, breathing heavily and glaring at her, looking slightly disgruntled.

"So, why are we stopping our spontaneous cardiovascular training session?" He grunted between two breaths.

HG didn't reply, inspecting the hole in the wall. It was the small gate to another room, a darkened room, because nobody had entered it in a long while. And nobody would now.

Helena swallowed thickly and drew her gaze away from the entrance to the Bronze Sector to look at her partner. "Remind me to talk to Artie when we're finished doing inventory. There is an artifact in the Warehouse causing noises and he should take care of it."

"So you're delegating now?" Steve concluded, scratching his head.

HG shook her head. "I don't have to take care of every tiny artifact that's about to wreak havoc, Jinksy."

"But Artie is?" Jinks smiled when Helena shrugged and turned around to go away.

"Well, you know that annoying Artie is my hobby." Helena retorted, but didn't feel excited anymore whilst she walked away from the gate.

* * *

March

"So, we can go to the hockey hall today at noon after we've been at the coffee shop." Steve suggested, while walking through his and Helena's shared hotel room to get something from his night stand. They were both on artifact hunt in London. There was a mysterious case of missing people. One of them had been seen last at the hockey hall, the other one at a coffee shop. Jinks hoped it would be an easy case because he didn't want to have HG missing. Or something like that. The cases with the missing people were always the annoying ones. "I hope you can ice skate so we won't attract that much suspicion." He tilted his head questioningly, when he caught HG leaning on her palms on the hotel room's desk. The Victorian had her eyes squeezed shut and her lips pursed. For Jinks' taste, she was looking a tiny bit too pale. But that was always hard to judge.

"Something wrong, HG?" Jinks asked carefully, inching slighty closer but keeping his distance. Helena shook her head, weakly, but didn't reply. Instead she just pressed her lips into a straight line.

"Don't you feel well?" Jinks carefully placed a hand on the writer's back. He didn't know what to do. His partner looked pale and sweaty. And yes, now she gagged. Steve quickly pulled away and jumped out of her way when Helena spun on her heels to rush into the bathroom. He heard the noise of a toilet seat being opened forcefully. Then, he heard his partner retch. Steve sighed audibly. He didn't know if he should start laughing or not.

"Well." He grinned, peeking his head in the bathroom door to find his partner kneeling in front of the toilet, her head almost disappearing in it. "I told you I wouldn't have eaten that Sushi."

The Victorian raised her head to glare at him indignantly. Then, she quickly leaned forwards and started making _those noises_ again. Steve had always been a pretty sensitive person and _those noises_ – as he called them secretly in his mind to keep himself from imagining them more properly – left him feel sick, too. So he pursed his lips to walk out of the bathroom, closing the door behind himself carefully.

"I would offer you to hold your hair, HG. But currently, I have problems holding yesterday's dinner." He complained. There was another retching noise, causing Jinks to swallow repeatedly before gagging. Steve opened that door and only just made it to the sink himself.

* * *

Steve walked out of the coffee shop where he had asked its owner some questions. He looked around the street to find his partner, but HG was gone. The agent's furrowed his eyebrows, he quickly opened his Farnsworth to call her.

"Pub." He just briefly heard her voice and even before the screen had fully brightened, it went black again. Jinks groaned silenty and looked up, finding a smaller pub on the other side of the street.

He rolled his eyes and then crossed the street to walk inside. He wondered that pubs even had opened this early over here.

In the dim light of the foggy room, he spotted HG, eating something red and disgustingly-looking with a fork and a knife.

"Should I even ask?" He crossed his arms, taking a seat next to her. He avoided looking at the thing on her plate.

"Steve, we're in London." Helena stated like it was an explanation.

"Yeah, I don't think you would get something like that over there in America." The male agent stared up at the ceiling, getting rid of his coat. "So you really want to finish that, yeah?" He asked in disbelief.

"This is a really good blood pudding." HG pointed at him with her fork before she took another bite. "Do you know how I long I've waited for some blood pudding this good?"

"Haven't you been... like... sick a few hours ago?" Steve suggested and inched away when she again started pointing with the fork at him. "Try it!" She demanded, but her partner pressed his lips together. "Tell me what it's made of." He muttered.

"Blood, kidneys, liver... good and healthy things." The inventor proclaimed and shoved another fork-full into her mouth.

"Yeah, no. Thank you. I'm not hungry." He shook his head, pursing his lips. "Really not hungry." Steve was pretty sure that his face would show a green skin tone by now.

The waiter showed up, placing another dish with fish and chips on the table. Steve nodded. Yes, this was getting more and more British. Helena reached over for the vinegar, looking up at the waiter. "The custard?" She asked quickly. The man only nodded and scuffed away.

The line of Steve's lips got straighter and thinner over time while he watched HG eat all these disgusting things. Not only that she just had poured vinegar over her fish and chips to have them with blood pudding, no... a few minutes later she also took spoon-fulls of this white slime called 'custard' inbetween two bites of fish and blood pudding.

"Okay. The air in here is getting too British for me." Jinks stood up from the chair after he had watched Helena dipping a long piece of deep-fried fish into the custard. "You will find me outside. Breathing. Taking really deep breaths to get rid of the nausea."

* * *

Half an hour later, HG was retching again. This time into a bush at a sidewalk next to a light post. And this time, Steve also held her hair, concentrating hard to not join her. As disgusting the things she had eaten had looked before they had made it into her stomach, as horrifying they looked now, coming out of it again. He pursed his lips, looking away but still holding her hair, because he was her partner and friend.

"I don't want to say 'I could have told you so', HG." He weakly whispered between two gagging rounds from her. "But I could have told you so."

* * *

Myka held the sick Helena gently in her arms and tenderly caressed her hair. HG had made it back to Univille only barely alive, if the American could trust the older woman's words here. Helena was sick since she had been in London two days ago. In the morning, she would retch her guts out, and then she would spend all day in bed, because she was tired. The curly-haired woman smiled. Sick Helena was a really cute experience, because as strong as the inventor always looked, as whiny and mortified she was now, feeling unwell. And right now, she was sleeping in Myka's arms, who held her snuggled close and repeatedly kissed her hair. In all those years the Victorian had been here now, Myka had never witnessed Helena this sick before and –

In all those years Helena had been here... The American pulled her brows in a tight knit. Carefully, she pushed her love back to her own pillow. Then Myka reached for the lamp on the night stand. When the light turned on, she watched Helena hiding her face under the bed sheets.

"Helena, it's 2018!" The American proclaimed, shivering slighty without feeling cold. The Brit grunted in reaction, turning away from her.

"That's indeed true," The Victorian groaned. "I'm glad to hear that, now please turn off the light so I can sleep again. Because I will certainly puke my guts out tomorrow as well. You see, I have a tight schedule being sick, Myka. And I want to get as much energy as possible for that."

"No, Helena!... That's exactly what I'm talking about." Carefully, Myka left the bed to flounder over to her girlfriend's bed side. "Puking. Steve told me you ate strange food in London because he was worried it has caused this." The American took a deep breath while she tried to handle her realisation. "Helena, it's 2018!"

"You already said that." The writer replied drowsily.

"Helena, when I travelled through time, I landed in late 2023 and Sarah was about five years old." Myka whispered and held her stomach. Suddenly, it had started to ache.

Helena jolted up in bed to stare at her. "What?" She asked. "Why are we suddenly talking about the time-"

"Because Helena, it is happening. It is happening like it should." The American whispered breathlessly. She turned to the Victorian, inching a step closer to take her hands into her own. "Okay. Don't panic. Everything is alright." Myka breathed, her eyes darting nervously around the room. "I love you. I will support you no matter what your decision would be. Just remember that you're not alone but that we're in this together and that she'll be fine. You're able to protect her in the future. Don't panic, Helena. Really. Just don't panic. "

"Myka." The Brit inched closer to the younger woman and held her by the wrists. "Everything is alright. I'm not panicking. The only person who seems to be panicking is obviously you - your voice hitched up for a whole octave!" She smiled, but her confusion was evident in the crease between her eyebrows. "Take a deep breath and then please clarify the problem I am supposed not to be panicking about. The problem of seeing Sarah around five years old in 2023 – OH." The Victorian's eyes widened. "It's 2018." She whispered. The Victorian looked into the American's eyes. "Myka, it's 2018!"

"That's what I've been talking about." The younger woman started pacing through the room. "It's 2018, and you're puking and eating strange things, and Sarah is around five years old in 2023, so..." The American threw her hands towards the ceiling, shrugging helplessly. "Don't panic, Helena, I'm here. I'm with you, but currently, I'm a little freaked out because it's 2018!"

Helena sat up at the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. "I might be pregnant." She concluded quietly.


	10. Part 2 - Chapter 3

**Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta. :)**

* * *

Myka was nervously pacing around the room she shared with Helena, up and down, up and down again, like a caged animal. Desperately, she tried to keep herself from panicking, but she had to admit that she wasn't very successful at it. Her chest tightened, making it really hard for her to breathe properly. She inhaled the apparently inexistent air, pulling her shirt's collar away from her neck so she had enough space to breathe.

"Air." Myka huffed, pursy. "There is no air in this room." Her voice cracked while she spoke so fast she had trouble understanding herself. "There should be air in this room. A lot of air actually. This room is in a house next to a freaking forest. Forest means trees, and trees mean oxygen."

"Myka." It was Helena who addressed her. But the American was still struggling with her lack of proper air. "But no, there isn't enough air in this room." She complained, turning around to resume pacing around. "Or am I suddenly getting asthma?" She stopped, staring at the window. "Can one suddenly develop asthma at 36?" Again, she started moving, raising her arms in desperation.

"Myka." Helena's voice was calm, but she also sounded a tiny bit annoyed.

"Oh god!" The curly-haired woman groaned deeply. "I'm developing asthma and it's probably genetic!"

"Myka Ophelia Bering!" HG cried out, loud enough to make the American jump in shock. Myka instantly stopped and then spun around to shoot a nervous glance at her girlfriend. The Victorian was still sitting on the bed, her eyes widened anxiously while her fingers clutched the bed sheet.

"Yes?" Myka asked, her voice too loud for her own taste. Nervously, she eyed the wall. Pete was sleeping on its other side. They shouldn't be that loud unless they wanted him to join their conversation, and right now, Myka really thought that was something they needed to discuss in private.

"I might be pregnant, Myka." Helena stated laconically, swallowing thickly right after saying it. She then gazed tensely around the room, her eyes widening even more while she seemed to slowly realise something. "How did that happen?" The Victorian exhaled loudly, her breath shaking.

"Oh, come on, Helena." The American grunted, turning away for another time to continue pacing. "We both know that it must have been an accident with an-" Myka stopped again, blinking as realisation hit her. "The tea kettle!" She exclaimed and then turned back to Helena to point an index finger at her.

"The tea kettle?" Helena repeated, tilting her head in confusion.

"You made tea with it and I drank it!" Myka clarified, jumping slightly up and down, her finger still pointing at HG who eyed it warily. "And then you drank it, too. I remember that! And after that-" The younger woman groaned, burying her face in her hands. "After that I basically jumped you and..." She took her hands away from her face, resting them on her hips while she stared at the wall above the headboard of their bed. "Oh god." Myka sighed deeply. "I impregnated you with a tea kettle. I impregnated H. G. Wells with a tea kettle." She shook her head, snorting. "That sentence sounds like I just made it up using Mad Libs. This really isn't something you can say to other parents in the kindergarten. Oh." The American looked at Helena on the bed, who stared back at her although the Victorian didn't really look like she was listening. "Will she go to kindergarten?" Myka asked herself. "Is there even a proper school here?"

Helena and Myka blinked at each other in silence. It was the younger woman who began speaking again. "Are you alright, Helena?"

The inventor looked up at her, her eyes still alarmingly widened. To Myka, she looked like she was internally screaming. "Absolutely not." HG stated, her voice strangely calm. "But I think you are less alright than I am, so... Myka... please sit down on the bed. I would make you sit down but currently, I am afraid I would fall over if I'd stand up."

"Helena-" Myka began, but the Victorian shook her head eagerly. "Please sit down on the bed." She repeated, still sounding remarkably calm, so Myka immediately obeyed. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the mattress next to her girlfriend. HG turned to her to take the younger woman's wrists into her hands. Swallowing again, Helena stared at the American's hands for a few seconds, then she looked up into Myka's green eyes. "Myka, you are definitely taking a few steps too far into this." She stated, pressing the younger woman's wrists gently, her brown eyes sparkling. Myka wasn't sure if Helena was about to cry or not. "There is the possibility..." Helena continued, reaching her right hand up to caress Myka's cheek with the back of it. "...that I might be pregnant because I made tea with a wish granting kettle. But Myka." The Victorian's gaze darted briefly away, before she looked at Myka again. "I didn't wish for that. Certainly not."

The American pursed her lips before nodding. She dropped her gaze and took a deep breath. "I know, Helena. I know. I didn't wish for that either and... I... oh god, I certainly didn't do it, Helena. You have to believe me." Myka felt the panic rise again. She quickly looked up into the Brit's eyes. "And... oh my god, I am also not saying that I'm leaving you alone in this." This wasn't what she'd wanted to say as well. She was properly panicking now. "Neither that I want to force you into this, Helena. All in all, it's your decision and not mine." Myka could hear that she was speaking incredibly fast again, but she didn't know how to stop. "Because that's your body, and not mine, and-"

"Myka." Helena interrupted her quickly. "You have to slow down. I can't follow your thoughts."

The American laughed nervously. "So I am freaking out and you are scaringly calm?"

"Oh Myka." HG replied, eyes still widened. "Believe me, I am 'freaking out' as well, as you put it. But I think the shock made me lose command over my features and my voice instead."

"So you're screaming internally, is that more like it?" Myka inquired with a smile. But then she realised what they were talking about again and eyed Helena worriedly.

"Yes. I am screaming internally and it's rather loud." The Victorian stated quietly, smiling briefly, but then she shook her head. To Myka, it looked as though HG had just had the same thoughts that had crossed Myka's mind. "I'm afraid, Myka." Helena said, once again sounding impressively calm.

The younger woman nodded in response. "Me, too. But I want to help you."

The Victorian met Myka's gaze again, her own eyes sparkling mysteriously. Then, she leaned forwards and kissed the younger woman softly. Myka sighed deeply, tasting her girlfriend's tongue and lips while she felt the older woman's right hand carefully stroking her cheek. The other one was still resting on her wrist.

HG pulled back, opening her eyes slowly. She watched Myka for a second, licking her lips and taking her hand away from the younger woman's cheek. "I love you, Myka." She stated and sounded so ... content while saying it that the younger woman was impressed again. "I love you, too?" She responded quickly. But then, Myka felt awful because she realised her reply sounded more like a question than a statement. "I love you, Helena." She repeated, trying to put more confidence into the sound of her words. She groaned in frustration. "You have to excuse me, Helena. I really do love you, but I think I just lost control over my voice as well and now I really struggle sounding honest. I do love you. Don't be afraid. I will stay with you no matter wha-"

She froze when Helena caressed her cheek again and gave her a quick kiss. "You are protective, Myka." The writer smiled briefly, brown eyes gleaming with something Myka would describe as relief. "I love you so much, - for the person you are and the person you see in me. Right now, you have proven again how much you care about me. Sometimes I'm asking myself why I deserve so much care from you." She put her finger on Myka's lips to silence her when the younger woman made attempt to reply. "I know what you want to say and it's alright. Currently, this conversation is not about me. It's about you. You care so much about me that you don't even mention that this could be your decision, too. You would easily just accept mine."

"I love you, Helena." Myka replied, naturally now, her lips vibrating against the artificer's finger.

"I know." The older woman nodded slowly. "And I love you. And that's why I am going to take care of you now." Helena took Myka's wrists into her hands again and shifted on bed to face the younger woman fully. "Because you are currently openly 'freaking out' and I seem to be rather calm. Maybe I can help you calm down." The Victorian took a deep breath through her nose. Automatically, Myka mirrored her behaviour. "Alright." HG began calmly. "There might be the possibility that I am pregnant. And it sounds rather curious and slightly unsettling to say, Myka. But frankly speaking, we did know that this could happen for more than four years now." Helena gulped and then looked into Myka's eyes. "Because there has been time travel. Because we both have memories of a girl called Sarah who came back in time. Twice. And we lived with these memories for four years now, and even though we ignored them and tried hard not to talk about them to each other, we did get used to them with time."

"Maybe used to the thought of Sarah's possible existence." Myka replied instantly. "But definitely not used to the thought of becoming parents."

"Yes, Myka. I agree." Helena nodded profusely. "But you are still taking a few steps too far into this."

"As in...?" The younger woman shook her head, confused.

"As in you are thinking about schools and making decisions while right now, we can't do anything but wait." Helena stated, her hands letting go of Myka's wrists to entwine their fingers.

"Wait for what?" The American slowly pulled her eyebrows into a tight knit.

"Well, for the sun to rise and the shops to open, so we can buy one of those tests I have read about. " Awkwardly, Helena looked down at her stomach just to gaze up at Myka again. She sighed, shaking her head. "To – oh well. To find out if there really is a reason I munched everything the British cuisine has to offer and then left all of it in a bush after tha- Bugger." The Victorian rolled her eyes, which caused Myka to snort. "I am indeed pregnant. I did that already when I was pregnant with Christina and-" Now Helena looked at Myka again, alarmed this time. Quickly, the Victorian's eyes snapped shut, pulling Myka closer by her hands. The American struggled with not falling over while Helena pressed her hands so hard that Myka started worrying about the blood supply in her own fingers. "No." Helena whispered, breathlessly.

"Helena?" Myka asked carefully, unsure about what to do. To her relief, HG opened her eyes again, but she didn't look at her. "No, Myka." She stated, looking mesmerised, like she was trying to convince herself about something. "This is not Christina. This is different. We both know I will be able to protect her. Nothing will happen to her. She's safe with us."

"Yes." The younger woman nodded instantly. "Yes, Helena. That's true. She's safe with us. Our daughter has sent us a message through time so we know she's fine. So you know she's safe."

Helena's facial expression changed into a surprised one. She was thoroughly surveying Myka with a genuine looking interest. HG remained silent, but looked like she was trying to process something she had heard just now.

"What is it?" Myka asked carefully, eyes darting nervously through the room. She was worrying she did say something wrong.

"You said it." The Victorian declared quietly.

"I said what?" Myka's confusion was only growing.

"You said 'our daughter'." Helena finished, nodding. "Our daughter has sent us a message through time."

"Oh." Quickly, Myka lowered her gaze away. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to sound like I was already addressing..." Her gaze darted awkwardly to Helena's stomach. "...it as a person."

"Oh Myka, shut it." Myka tried hard to stiffle her yelp when the older woman pulled her close. HG's lips were on hers again, her tongue touching Myka's with a possessive need. The curly-haired woman had problems to hold the pace of that kiss. "Okay-okay." Myka grunted, pulling back from her girlfriend again. "What is this? I am babbling in reaction to the realisation that you might be pregnant and you have the urge to kiss me a lot?"

Helena frowned, looking like she was suddenly deeply in thought. "Indeed I have the urge to kiss you a lot, Myka." She whispered and then cleared her throat. "And this is quite interesting." Slowly, Helena tilted her head, watching Myka attentively. "Can I try to express something?"

Myka smirked briefly. "You? Try? - Of course you can." She's corrected herself at once when she was hit by Helena's death glare.

Slowly, the inventor reached out for the bed sheet and started to crumple and twist its rim in her hands while she spoke. "I think in the last four years, living with the awareness that Sarah did send us a message from the future, telling us that she is alright and well... I think with this and with the time I had... I made my peace with her. I made my peace with it all." Awkwardly, Helena gazed down to her stomach. "It's not that I am in the need of having children. It's not that I am ready for them or wished for them..." She looked up at her girlfriend again, dropping the sheet. "But now that it seems to have happened, I think I am alright with it."

In surprise, the curly-haired woman's face went blank. Helena was alright with it? Myka wouldn't have expected that. In the last year, thoughts about Sarah had sometimes crossed the American's mind. Myka had fallen in love with the girl in the moment she had watched her lying on that bed and watching cartoons during her time travel. Myka had never thought she would want to have kids. She wouldn't have known what to do if something would have happened by accident, but she never wished or desired a child. But after her time travel, after seeing Sarah, Myka had started thinking differently. Having a child still wasn't on her to-do-list, but she clearly thought that Sarah deserved to live. She loved her daughter from the future, and the need to have Sarah was different from wanting a child at all. And with passing time after the accident with the watch, Myka's started to catch herself thinking about Sarah more frequently. But... just like she had promised to Helena after New York, she hadn't mentioned that to the Victorian. She had never looked at Helena and asked herself if she was ready for it or alright with that. And now, the writer just had told her that she was.

"What?" Myka asked instead of expressing the paragraph of thoughts she just did have.

"Oh, I am still utterly afraid of getting a child and... oh Myka, dear, let's not think about raising one. That's going to be the real struggle, then." The raven-haired woman groaned, rolling her eyes. "I have the feeling we will mess this up, like Claudia would say. But Myka, currently I'm not afraid she'll ever be in danger. Tell me why." HG looked into Myka's eyes, and there was again this gleam that looked like relief.

"Maybe it is because we have that memory." The younger woman tried to explain. "Your memory was actually not as happy as mine but we got that message from the future. She told us she is alright, Helena."

"It seems so, Myka. It's an incredibly curious feeling."

They looked down to the ground and sat in silence for a while. There was so much to process.

Helena was right, Myka decided. They had lived with the information that there was going to be a child. Due to time travel accidents they knew it would be there, even though they both had pretended they had a choice. This wasn't what the concept of Helena's time machine was like. After Sarah's first time travel, it would have been okay to consider Sarah only a possibility in their lives. But the use of a time machine told Myka that everything they would be doing would only lead into Sarah's future. Of course they were still deciding about their future themselves, but everything they would do would lead in exactly that future Sarah would live in and the reason why she needed to use the time machine. This was what was supposed to happen. And now Myka was getting a headache because she was thinking about the laws of time travel again.

"Alright." HG pulled her girlfriend out of her thoughts. She carefully raked her hand through her hair. "I think neither of us is going to sleep tonight."

Myka nodded in agreement. "Obviously. Who would be able to sleep after a revelation like this?"

"We still don't even know if we are right assuming that." Helena mentioned and shrugged. They looked deeply into each other's eyes. Myka swallowed and then said: "There is a 24 hours shop in that small village one hour away from Univille, near the highway."

They both hesitated, but then jumped from the bed in unison. "I'm going to get the car's keys." Helena stated hastily before they quickly left the room.

Two seconds later, they entered it again to change from their pyjamas into clothes that were suitable for the cold of the early spring in South Dakota.

* * *

Staring at the blue cross on a tiny plastic stick, Helena was sitting on the toilet lid in Myka's and her own bathroom. A blue cross. This blue cross was proof of the fact that HG wasn't alone in her body anymore. That she was sharing it with another person. That...

That she was pregnant, awaiting a child. A daughter, called Sarah. The young woman she had seen that day in Boone, - the day that had never happened but of which she still had memories.

But now, this was happening. Sarah was happening. And Helena was afraid of it.

Even though the Victorian knew that Sarah had send them a message from the future to tell them that she was alright, even after all that had happened, Helena was still afraid of having this child, if having a child at all. She was asking herself if she'd ever stop being afraid. If Helena could ever stop worrying about her child. She closed her eyes and tried to remind herself of what she had learned during therapy. Worrying wouldn't help. She could always think and worry about the future but it would never help. Because Helena was living right here and now that meant she had no influence on whatever incidents could be happening in the future. Despite the fact that Helena was a time traveller along with her girlfriend... and apparently, her daughter would become a time traveller as well, HG didn't have a crystal ball or any skills in fortune telling. All Helena could do was having trust. Having trust in herself even though that was still hard sometimes, and having trust in Myka. The Victorian had never trusted another person more in her life, although she had been trusting Wolly and was now trusting Jinksy as her partner. Helena wasn't alone. She had family who would be certainly supporting her. Who would make sure that Myka, Sarah and her were alright.

All Helena had to have was trust.

"And?" Myka asked all of a sudden, reminding Helena where she was. The American was standing next to her, her arms crossed, nervously eyeing the writer.

"Well." Helena swallowed and then looked up at her girlfriend. "I would ask for a glass of scotch, but this shouldn't be an option anymore." Slowly, Helena reached out to hand the pregnancy test over to her girlfriend. She watched the curly-haired woman stare at the test. Helena had always been good at analysing other people's body language, but currently, her skills seemed to have left her.

"Positive." Myka breathed, looking at the test as though she had expected something else.

"Indeed." Helena admitted, eyeing Myka nervously. _No_, she reminded herself, _trust her. Trust yourself. _

"You are pregnant." The younger woman whispered, still staring at the object in her hands as if it was about to bite her.

"Indeed." Helena agreed once again.

"We're going to be parents." The American stated, sounding absolutely thunderstruck. "I mean... if you-"

"Myka." The writer interrupted her on the spot. "I already said I want this. And even though we both didn't wish for that, this is our child. There won't be any discussion about it." HG rose from the toilet, mustering her girlfriend thoroughly. "Even _if you _wouldn't want this."

In reaction to her words, Myka dropped the pregnancy test into the sink. "Of course I want this." She said, sounding easily enough to convince Helena that she actually meant it. Carefully, the younger woman pulled HG close. "I want this not only because I want you. I want... I might be ready for this, Helena. I don't know..." Myka swallowed thickly and looked deeply into Helena's eyes. "You told me to never look at you and ask myself if you'd ever be ready. And I didn't. Because I promised you." The younger woman leaned forwards and tenderly kissed her girlfriend on the cheek. "But I think, I've been ready for a while now. The thought of having a child still frightens me, Helena. But... Sarah... I think I am ready for her. Is it okay if I admit that?"

"Yes." Helena replied quickly. "That's okay. Thank you."

"So we're ready for this?" Myka questioned, equally quick. The Victorian just smiled and kissed her, carefully and tenderly. "Absolutely not. Having a child is a struggle, but we will manage it." HG leaned forwards and pulled Myka close, deepening the kiss. Grinning a little mischievously into it, she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend's shoulders to pull her down to the ground. The American yelped when they both dropped down and then, they laughed in relief.

"I'm suddenly having a big déja-vu." Myka blurted out, still laughing. She looked at the bathroom rug they were both lying upon. "What?" Helena asked, confused, watching the younger woman chuckle.

"Time travel." Myka whispered, resting her head in the nook of Helena's neck. "Déja-vus. It's funny. I don't know." The American closed her eyes, sighing pleasantly. "And then there also isn't anything funny about time travel." She stated, giggling quietly. "For example: names. Can we choose or can't we? We already knew Sarah's name before she was existing."

Helena looked at Myka. She waited until the curly-haired woman had opened her eyes again, then she nodded. "Well, we still can change that name, since it's our decision, Myka. Everything about that is our decision... but I think we already decided that it's a suitable name for her." HG pursed her lips slightly. "Only in a different timeline."

"Uhhhh." The American narrowed her eyes at her. "We are so not going to talk about something like this. Because after all this time travel, I'm glad to never have to face thinking about changed timelines ever again."

The inventor pulled her back into the kiss. Kissing Myka, here on the bathroom floor, felt easy, even though the topic they were talking about wasn't easy at all. Having a child wouldn't be easy at all. Having Sarah while working for the Warehouse... all of this was so complicated that Helena just wanted to shove those thoughts away for the moment. "I said I wanted to explore our future myself." She murmured and smiled. "And well, that's what we're about to do now. Together..." She cleared her throat. "It's my mother's name."

"I know." Myka added quickly.

"Of course you know. I'm actually quite certain that it would have been the decision of the ...how did Claudia put it?... the literature nerd in our relationship." Helena chuckled when she watched Myka poking out her tongue at her.

"I am not a nerd." The American said strictly.

"Yes, you are, Miss 'H. G. Wells is a woman. I have to process this'." Helena grinned brightly at her girlfriend.

The younger woman groaned. "What can I do. I just really love Helena Wells!" They both burst out in laughter but then cautiously eyed the walls. They still weren't alone in this house.

"Sarah means 'Mistress'." Helena continued. "And just in case you wondered, I really like this name."

"Let's just stick with saying we named her after your mother." Myka started playing with HG's hair. "Because I really don't want to sound like one of those 'My daughter's name means 'Mistress', I truly believe she's about to be a really important person' kind of parents."

HG bit her lip to keep herself from giving Myka some information she had heard Sarah drop that undone day in Boone. Sarah being Caretaker was something they could worry about when it was certain. And that meant: In the future.

Carefully, Helena took the younger woman's hand and looked into her eyes. "She's here, Myka. If you want to tell your daughter you don't want to force any choices about her life upon her, you can tell her. I doubt she'd hear you... but-" Eventually, Helena guided Myka's hand down to her lower stomach. She rested their hands there, her own covering the younger woman's. "But she's with us now." They had both gazed awkwardly at HG's stomach all night and now, it felt real at last. They finally both felt like there was somebody with them, right there under HG's skin. They couldn't see or feel her, but she was there.

When Myka's gaze met Helena's again, the American's eyes had widened. "This is Sarah." She whispered, looking like realisation had fully hit her now.

"This is our daughter." Helena replied fondly and leaned forwards to kiss Myka again.

* * *

**Can I ask for some reviews? :S Because there weren't much recently and you all know that I'm still really really occupied with and annoyed by my thesis. This would really brighten my day. **


	11. Part 2 - Chapter 4

**Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta. :)**

* * *

"Ugh." Pete groaned in reaction to the noises they could hear from the Warehouse's restrooms. The agents were having breakfast in Artie's office. This had become some sort of ritual before doing inventory in the last years and had originally been Abigail's idea. Today, Abigail and Claudia weren't with them, because they were busy with Warehouse matters once again, but HG, Pete, Myka and Steve wouldn't stop with this – in Myka's opinion really cute – ceremony simply because their family couldn't always be complete. But well, Helena had only taken a bite from the pancakes Pete had made for her before hastily leaving for the restroom.

"This sounds like something really bad she has gotten herself there." Pete scrunched his nose, looking at Steve. "Jinksy, when did you two come back from London? Three days ago? It should be better right now if it was only the stomach flu, but it sounds like HG has caught something more awful."

The younger man nodded, his mouth filled with cereal. "She started with that during our last day in London and obviously isn't finished yet. I'm just glad I didn't get what she has. Apparently, it's not contagious." Steve looked up at Myka – who didn't say anything, because she was busy biting her lip in response to the thought of Jinksy getting what Helena had – and then glanced at his newspaper again. "I think it's pretty interesting that she really tries hard to eat and to keep things inside. I couldn't do that." There was another gagging noise which caused Jinks to drop his spoon on the table. "And I can't eat breakfast while she pukes over there. That's just disgusting!"

Myka smiled but kept staring at the orange she had just peeled and put on her plate. She only pursed her lips without replying anything and avoided the other agents' eyes. She was glad to have this little secret with Helena for now. And they didn't want to tell the others until they had processed it fully on their own. The Warehouse family would certainly find out soon enough, especially with Steve being their friend. Myka was absolutely sure he would be the first to discover that his partner was pregnant. Maybe they could keep it from him for a few days. They just couldn't talk about Helena's 'sickness' in front of him. Or maybe they should start talking with a South American accent right now. Keeping a secret from Steve was a physical impossibility.

"I wonder why she comes to work." Pete hummed while cutting Helena's pancakes he had moved to his own plate. The noises from the restroom obviously didn't bother him. "If I would be that sick, I would lie down in bed and watch cartoons all day. We all remember the flu incident."

"She's already feeling a little better." Myka mentioned, but then bit her lip again and eagerly considered the orange in front of her. That wasn't really a lie, was it? Helena was feeling better because had never been ill in the first place, right? The curly-haired woman was feeling Steve's puzzled gaze on herself. She shot him a glimpse, finding his eyebrows pulled together. Damn. Now she had made him suspicious.

"Does that–" Pete held up a finger when more retching noises emerged from the restroom. "Sound like 'better' to you?"

"Not really." Myka admitted quietly and regarded her orange again. "But well, you know Helena. When she wants to work nobody can stop her from that." Again, this wasn't a lie. Myka was slowly figuring out what she could say in front of Steve, who was still looking at her with his eyebrows furrowed.

"She should totally go see Doctor Calder if you ask me." Her partner stated naturally. Myka's eyes widened instantly. "You are right, Pete!" The curly-haired woman exclaimed and jumped up from her chair. "That's a pretty good idea, partner!" While pulling the mobile phone out of the pocket of her trousers, Myka caught Steve mouthing 'partner', but Myka turned around quickly to head for the restroom. "I'm going to talk to Helena and then we gonna talk to Vanessa. It's _definitely_ a reason to call the doctor." And again, this wasn't a lie.

It seemed that Steve didn't know what to think about Myka's behaviour. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly as they followed her.

The curly-haired woman entered the restroom and immediately locked the door behind herself. "Steve's suspecting something." She hissed at the Victorian who was kneeling in front of the toilet. Helena glanced up at her. "How long did we make it without rousing his suspicion?" She asked before she had to lean forwards again.

Myka looked at her phone while waiting for Helena to finish this episode of puking. "About an hour. I am so proud of us." Quickly, she sat down on the floor next to her girlfriend and started caressing her thigh while Helena continued puking. "I'm so sorry, Helena." She whispered and pursed her lips. HG wiped away the sweat on her forehead. "Well." She said, pulled back from the toilet and pressed the toilet flush. "It's not like it is your fault."

Helena got up from the ground and walked over to the sink to rinse herself. Myka looked at her back for a brief moment and then looked down to start typing on her mobile phone. "I'm calling Doctor Calder." She murmured quietly. "Pete has suggested it because he thinks you're sick and I think it's actually a pretty good idea."

"I agree." Helena washed her hands and mouth and then sat down on the ground next to Myka.

The phone rang a few times before Dr. Calder took the call.

"Yes, Myka?" The physician asked, sounding utterly confused that the agent was calling her.

"Oh, hello, Vanessa." Myka squeezed Helena's thigh. The Victorian sat pretty close to the toilet, eyeing it anxiously. She looked like she wasn't that sure if she had to use it again. "Uuuuhm, I am calling you because of... personal matters. Is... is Artie anywhere near you?"

Myka could hear Vanessa walking through her flat. A door was closed audibly. "Now he isn't." The physican stated, still sounding confused.

"Okay." The curly-haired woman nodded and looked up at Helena, whose face was incredibly pale. The Victorian was attentively watching Myka who took a deep breath. "I would recommend sitting down, Vanessa."

"Is something wrong, Myka?" Dr. Calder interrogated carefully.

"No, actually... no. Everything is alright. Did you sit down?" Myka couldn't help but grin a little bit.

"I did now. Listen, Myka, if anything is wrong I can he-"

"Helena is pregnant." The agent interrupted the physician. The line was completely quiet after Myka had finished her sentence. The curly-haired woman exchanged a look with Helena. "Dr. Calder?"

"I'm really glad you made me sit down." The doctor admitted. "But... how?" Vanessa seemed to come back to her senses. "I mean... by whom?" Myka replied with a giggle, a bit nervously.

"By me, Vanessa. Ehm... apparently..."

"You impreg-" Vanessa stopped and sighed. "Has there been an artifact?" She sounded more interested than surprised now.

"A wish-granting tea kettle." Myka worriedly eyed Helena who had leaned over the toilet seat once again and slightly gagged. The American carefully stroked her lover's back. She briefly took the phone away from her mouth. "I am so sorry, Helena, you know that? If I had an empathy artifact to swap our places right now, I would do it immediately."

"It's not that bad." The Victorian assured her but then leaned back forwards. "Alright, it is." She admitted, sounding muffled.

Myka picked up her phone again. "Yes, the wish-granting kettle. The one where the wish doesn't disappear after you have neutralised the artifact." The curly-haired woman noticed Helena reaching out a hand while the cramps shook her body. Myka quickly took the hand and squeezed it, trying to give her girlfriend some comfort.

"You wished for a child?" Vanessa asked, sounding absolutely surprised.

"No." Myka replied strictly. "We both didn't. And you know we would never use any artifacts for something like that. But... there was an accident with this particular artifact six weeks ago which is why we're assuming-"

"Could you come into the Doctor's office tomorrow?" The physician seemed to browse through the pages of a book. "Both of you? Then I can look properly at this situation and... you."

"I hope we can." Myka responded, sighing deeply. "In case we don't get sent on the artifact hunt."

"I'm gonna make sure you'll both get a day off." Vanessa declared hastily.

"But please, Vanessa, don't tell Artie yet." Myka pleaded quietly. "We want to keep that to ourselves until both of us have processed this, if possible."

* * *

Without any destination, Helena walked through the Warehouse. She was supposed to do inventory in the Marx section, but currently HG didn't know whether she should really venture that far into the Warehouse or stay close to the restrooms in Artie's office. She was still feeling ill, even though it had gotten a bit better. She was really hoping this morning sickness wouldn't last longer than only a few weeks. Back then, when she had been pregnant with Christina–

Helena stopped walking and leaned against a shelf. Eagerly, she shook her head. She had to stop thinking about Christina. This was different, and...

Well, no. Actually it wasn't. Just like Abigail had said, this was Helena's injury. Christina's death was her injury and living with an injury was only possible if one stopped pretending that this injury wasn't there. So Helena pulled back from the shelf and sat down on of those armchairs that were standing at several places in the Warehouse. She had time, the inventory could take all day.

Christina.

Helena slowly breathed in and out. She was trying to fight the nausea that had increased again. Sitting up straight, she swallowed repeatedly. Her day had been full of puking and right now, she didn't want to do it again, especially not in the middle of the Warehouse into some historical person's vase.

Christina. Helena tried to draw her attention back to that thought, closing her eyes.

Christina had died over a century ago. For Helena, it still felt like it had been yesterday, or only eight years ago because of her time in Bronze. It still hurt when she was thinking of her death. It still hurt when Helena thought of her relentless behaviour afterwards, especially of her betrayal to Myka. But like Pete had put it once, it was in the past. Just as she couldn't fully influence the future, she couldn't change the past and this was good. Helena didn't have to tell herself she wasn't the villain anymore. She knew she wasn't. It was the truth. Christina's death as well as Helena's time as 'the bad guy' lay in the past and Helena couldn't change it.

And now, there was a future. Sarah was part of that future. And however unsettling it still sounded to HG, it was the truth as well. Sarah was Myka's and Helena's child, and HG had already seen that girl grown up and healthy... and well, yes, maybe looking exhausted and desperate to change an accident in the future, but Sarah had been well (and apparently, successful with her attempts in doing so).

Sarah had sent the couple letters to tell them she was alright. Sarah would definitely be fine in the future. But in the last day, some part in Helena's had suddenly shown up and made a connection between Christina's death and Sarah's existence, and the Victorian couldn't prevent that part from doing it so easily. This part concluded that her future daughter would have the same destiny as her pa –

And then, there was suddenly this feeling. Helena couldn't explain why, but after getting used to the slight scent of apples in the Warehouse in the last four years, she was smelling it stronger than ever. This was the Warehouse's way of telling certain people that it liked them. And maybe, it was also a way of showing its emotions? The Victorian could only guess. Guess that maybe, Warehouse 12 had once had a bigger plan for her that didn't matter anymore, because it had never become reality. And HG wasn't sad about that and about the opportunities the past could have had for her. She was living in the present now, and this world of endless wonder had a future for her. Claudia was the Caretaker of Warehouse 13, and she was bloody good at it.

But the Warehouse kept this way of communicating with Helena, the scent of apples told her that the Warehouse was still there and that the writer was somebody it cared for. Or liked. Or wanted to protect. Maybe all of it at once.

Helena had never got to know Leena properly. They had both lived in the B&B before Yellowstone incident. The B&B proprietor had been polite to HG back then, but the Victorian had been sure that Leena was able to read her aura, so she had kept her distance. But now, the time traveller recognised Leena's voice speaking in her head.

_Don't worry._ The former innkeeper spoke, causing HG to gasp in surprise._ I have made her and I will make sure she's alright._

Helena furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She still hadn't opened her eyes and she wouldn't do now, even though she felt how somebody put a careful hand on her shoulder. HG was sure she wouldn't see anything if she'd open them and look around the aisle. She was alone. With the Warehouse.

_I remember a different time. I remember a different timeline, where you struggled harder with this. Where you became impulsive and angry at the thought of being pregnant with her and hated me for doing this to you. But now, there was a time travel incident and I believe it helped you understand._

"You made her." Helena whispered, repeating the words she had heard Leena's voice saying but of which she was certain were the Warehouse's. "_You_ have made her. _You_ wished for her?"

_We need her_, the Warehouse replied with Leena's voice in the writer's head. _All of us. Everyone in the Warehouse including you and Myka. _For a second, Leena sounded as though she was struggling with her words.

"You made her for Myka and me?" Helena murmured, trying to understand what this entity was trying to tell her. It felt odd to talk to a building, to something like the Warehouse. This must be what Claudia was dealing every day since she had become Caretaker.

_Sometimes, people need a second chance,_ the keeper of the inn replied enigmatically. _A second try to understand that mistakes and accidents in the past weren't their fault. To finally accept it, Helena. Sometimes, people need somebody to mirror their habits and emotions to make them understand why they are in harmony. And at times, people need to be grown closer by a child. I am so sorry for what has happened in the past, Helena._

"You made her for us on purpose?" Helena asked, starting to feel indignant. "This wasn't an accident? You have some nerves taking that decision away from us."

_Sarah is made of endless wonder and endless love,_ Leena's voice whispered._ I never took a decision away from you. I just gave you an opportunity._

"Arguable." HG replied dryly.

_You are going to love her. And this is everything that counts, isn't it?_

"But-"

_Feel her, Helena. She's already there with you, just like you told Myka. She's yours and Myka's, and a tiny part of her is also mine. She is you, and Myka, and me. You share a connection. We share a connection._

There was this feeling in her stomach growing. Helena had felt the Warehouse's emotions quite often recently, but right now she was sure it weren't this entity's emotions. It was something else. The Victorian gasped. Yes, those were indeed emotions she was feeling, but those were neither her own nor the Warehouse's. It was Sarah, showing that she felt well and –

This was Sarah. This feeling, the wave of delight and joy was Sarah's. It was Helena's daughter. And her daughter felt well in the Warehouse. She felt the Warehouse, and she felt Helena. It was her way of saying 'I am here. And I am alright.'

_Time works differently for me_, Leena spoke quietly._ I shall take care of all four of you, don't worry. You are safe with me._

Slowly, the writer arched a single eyebrow. "All four?"

_Time passes. Some scars and injuries will always hurt, but at some point we can learn to live with them... afterwards, we are ready again._

And then, the presence of Leena right behind the Victorian disappeared. But Helena's ability to feel Sarah inside her stomach didn't. The unborn child was still there and her emotions were too.

Helena recognised the noise. She had already heard it once when she had done inventory with Steve. _Thud. _It sounded like somebody was passing her by moving with a walking stick. Or maybe they were wearing a wooden shoe. It was the rhythmic noise of wood meeting wood. Quickly, HG opened her eyes. She wasn't surprised to find no one else in the aisle. With a genuine interest, Helena looked up at the shelf in front of her, finding a label that told her she was sitting in aisle A019. Taking a deep breath, the Victorian turned her head to look down the aisle, finding the entrance to the Bronze Sector.

Slowly, Helena got up from her chair and turned her back to the small gate. She nodded, listening to herself and the feeling of her daughter. "I believe in second chances as well." She whispered, before walking away to do inventory in the Marx section of the Warehouse.

* * *

Helena sat on the bed, close to Myka. Her head was resting on the younger woman's shoulder while the Brit was fondly regarding the little black and white picture in her hands. Currently, she couldn't recognise more than a tiny bean on it, but this was the physical evidence of Sarah's existence.

"Listen." Myka briefly looked up from her big book at the Victorian and then down again to start quoting from it: "_Agents are required to prevent pregnancy while working for the Warehouse_." The American snorted loudly and shook her head. "It isn't said what to do when _the Warehouse_ impregnates you. Like... we want to keep our job but the facility we're working for has actively tried to make it impossible for us to work for it, judging by the rules in its manual."

Helena put the picture down and leaned up to peck her girlfriend's cheek with a kiss. "I' m rather sure those are only guidelines in that book and not rules."

"But-" Myka looked down at the writer, who got comfortable on her pillow. "No, Myka." The Victorian interrupted her. "I know you have read the whole manual and you're proud of that and I am proud, too. I love how you love the manual. But there is a reason I didn't read it. I don't need a manual to tell me how to hunt down an artifact. Back in my age, I was quite good at it without the help of a book. We agents taught each other the proper handling of artifacts."

Now, HG smiled and began caressing her girlfriend's arm. While doing it, she looked at the picture in her other hand again. "And I also don't need a manual to tell me how to live my life, just as much as I don't need the Regents to tell me so. It's our decision."

Myka grunted in reaction to her words. "You are right, Helena. But there are also some things the manual is right about."

The Victorian's eyebrows darted up in surprise. "For example?"

"Dangerous artifact cases. They say that in the improbable case of a pregnancy of a Warehouse agent, the agent should not go on such cases anymore. And I agree with that." Myka pointed out, browsing through the big book on her lap to find the particular page, as though the words weren't in her memory and she needed to quote them.

Helena sat up and grinned. She had seen her daughter on a screen today for the first time. Dr. Calder had taken the Victorian's blood. She had confirmed HG's pregnancy and declared that everything was alright with it, even though she would call it a risk pregnancy because biologically, Helena was over 40 years old. HG had been anxious about that until the doctor had pointed out that all pregnancies that happened at an age beyond 35 were considered risk pregnancies. They had briefed the physician on the fact that... they had already met their daughter and that this was why they were content about her health and well-being. Dr. Calder had assumed that, since neither of them had wished for a pregnancy, the tea kettle had only made it possible for them to exchange genetic material.

And then Helena had dropped the bomb that the Warehouse had been the one who had wished for Sarah, and that the writer was able to feel her daughter's presence within the building. The Victorian thought this alone was reason enough why most of the rules written in the Warehouse manual that Myka loved so much (and HG loved her for loving it that much) weren't suitable to them.

Sarah was made by the Warehouse and Helena could only assume that this would get them into a lot of trouble. But rules in a book written by Regents wouldn't prevent them from that.

"Myka, I don't want to go on dangerous artifact cases as long as I am pregnant. The problem is that I don't know if cases are dangerous before I will go on them." Helena explained, meeting her girlfriend's eyes. "I am good at my job and I don't want to stop doing it. There will always be the danger of something bad happening. Even after she gets born. And this is really hard to say considering my past, but we can't stop doing our jobs just because we're afraid, Myka."

Myka scrunched her nose thinking.

"We could avoid cases that can cause miscarriages and death. And body-morphing and..." The Victorian groaned loudly. "I think we have to talk to Claudia soon. She has to inform the Regents about our situation and I'm rather sure she'll help us. She already offered to help us with Sarah a year ago."

"She did?" The American looked at her, curious.

"I think Claudia just wants to take care of us and make sure we are alright. We are her family." The writer slowly sat up and took the heavy book out of Myka's hands to put it on the night stand. "The manual is an appreciated work of literacy, Myka. But right now, I would appreciate if you would lie down with me and look at the beautiful picture I have here. Our daughter is on it, the person you are worrying so much about. Let's just stop worrying and start enjoying that we're going to be parents."

Sighing quietly, HG got comfortable on her pillow again. She smiled as she felt Myka snuggling closer. The Victorian held up the small picture so both of them could look at it properly. "She's a tiny bean." Myka mentioned and Helena groaned in response. "I know, right? When Dr. Calder told me we could take a look at her I expected it to be more exciting. This is the first time the future disappointed me."

Myka laughed freely and pulled the hem of HG's shirt up. She knelt next to the Brit and started drawing circles on her flat stomach. "One cannot see anything yet."

"Myka, I am only six weeks in." Helena smiled briefly.

"I am sure I will see something as soon as possible." The American leaned forwards and softly kissed the skin on Helena's stomach.

"I am absolutely certain about it. You have the infamous eye for the details, Myka." Helena smiled when she felt how the American's lips began wandering across her skin.

"How do you feel?" The younger woman asked, her voice slightly muffled.

"Tired." HG admitted. "With a headache and all that comes with it."

"Did you know that headaches can be cured by-"

"You are adorable." Carefully, Helena placed the picture on the night stand next to the manual. Then she looked at Myka who regarded her shyly and bit her lip. "I just love you, Helena, and maybe... maybe the fact that you carry our child just... made me a little happy..."

"Yes, I maintain with 'adorable'. This was a rather interesting way of expressing you want to celebrate my pregnancy with sex, Myka." HG leaned forwards to tenderly kiss the younger woman. "And I agree with your suggestion."

Myka hesitated for a second to look into the Victorian's eyes. Helena chuckled. "The foetus won't react to events before the 22nd week, darling, so don't worry. You see? I did a little research myself. Just not on Warehouse matters."

"And after that...?" The American asked cautiously, causing Helena to laugh.

"If we will do something that she'll remember, darling, then it's definitely worth the risk."

* * *

**Tick tock. Don't forget to review. :)**


	12. Part 2 - Chapter 5

**Thanks again to the-social-recluse for the beta.**

**Pain warning for this chapter. A beloved, a tissue, a cat or a plushie might be required.**

**Another warning: The word 'fuck' appears in this chapters twice. I remember people getting uncomfortable in reaction to this particular word, even though they seem to be absolutely okay with HG saying 'bloody', 'bugger', 'bollocks' and so on. To those people: Yes, I feel really really cool saying fuck. Have a nice read.**

* * *

April

Intensively blowing her nose with one of Artie's handkerchiefs, Helena walked out of the restrooms in the Warehouse. The handkerchief didn't help. HG's nose was stuffy for a few days now, and the Victorian was highly annoyed by it. The puking still hadn't stopped yet but it wasn't that exhausting anymore. Yes, she had become used to vomiting her guts out in the morning. What an achievement. The writer hoped it would stop soon.

She was twelve weeks into pregnancy and had successfully managed to hide it from the rest of the team. That really was an achievement one could be proud of as a part of the Warehouse family. With Steve narrowing his eyes at her every time she left for the restrooms when she had to retch again or for urinary urgency (and yes, this was becoming an issue now as well).

Then, there was also Pete, who was "vibing a lot, but I can't tell what it's about. I just have this strange feeling looking at both of you, Mykes." Myka and Helena could call themselves lucky that their friend was completely oblivious about anything, so they wouldn't have to worry much about him. Steve was the bigger problem. But since Helena would be beyond her twelfth week of pregnancy soon, they would tell them within the next days. Certainly, Steve was already suspecting something, as he often regarded her with this worried look on his face. The Victorian could tell that he was assuming she was suffering from something worse and she couldn't leave her poor partner with that thought.

Carefully, Myka and HG had made sure the second A team wasn't hunting down the really dangerous artifacts anymore, although this was a hard task. Nobody could really tell what they were about to come in contact with before they left for the field. But Helena volunteered for a lot of cases where they only had to pick up an already known artifact. And as soon as the reports of mysterious cases were mentioning people who had their skin peeling off them or who had artifact-induced miscarriages, Myka quickly took the files out of Artie's hand. Then she walked out of his office without a word before either him or Pete could say anything.

Right now, it was another quiet day in the Warehouse. Helena was glad about it, because... yeah, being pregnant was actually a rather occupying job. Her body was currently fullfilling a tight schedule of tasks, like steadily exchanging water, raising the amount of blood in her body and indeed growing a child. The outcome was that the Victorian was tired rather often, had a stuffy nose, and that she couldn't stay far away from the restrooms.

So the writer spent her day sitting in Artie's office (close to a toilet) while receiving updates from the F.I.S.H. maintenance team outside (Myka and Steve). Helena had to give them orders because she was the only one able to read the blueprints in the system and actually knew the meaning of what Myka and Steve were seeing on the F.I.S.H.'s dashboards. As long as they were only reading numbers and not touching anything, Helena could stay inside and instantly put everything into the computer system. Putting those updates into the computer wasn't that exciting, but Helena couldn't care less because most of her time was occupied with puking, peeing and blowing her nose. HG constantly asked herself why it was called 'morning sickness', because right now it was 3pm.

And everything was the Warehouse's fault. It hadn't communicated with her since that one day she had heard Leena's voice, but Helena could still feel her daughter's connection to it and the girl's emotions. This was also another thing the Brit had troubles adjusting herself with, - being able to feel another person's emotions within the Warehouse. It was a good thing that unborn children didn't have mood swings. Currently, Sarah was just feeling alright. But sometimes, it was really hard to differentiate between Sarah's feelings and her own. She wasn't sure if it was Sarah or her who had become incredibly happy at smelling the fried chicken Pete had once brought with him to Artie's office. Helena had been rather certain it had been her own pride she had felt while doing inventory in the H. G. Wells section. But she was also pretty sure that she didn't enjoy Chopin that much to be this excited when Steve had run into the musician's piano a few days ago and music had started playing. She had struggled hard to keep herself from giggling. She wasn't that far enough into pregnancy that Sarah could react to events from outside so HG was sure it had something to do with the Warehouse. Leena had said they were sharing a connection so the Victorian thought it might be the reason Sarah was emotionally reacting to events from outside. However, the actual cause was still unknown to the girl's parents.

All in all, this wasn't a normal pregnancy and Helena was struggling adjusting herself to it. But she would surely manage it. Hopefully...

Absent-mindedly, the writer ran her fingers across her lower stomach while sitting down in front of the computer. God knew when she had to get up the next time.

"Hi, HG!" Helena jumped a little in reaction to Claudia's words. The Caretaker had appeared in the office out of nowhere again, smiling fondly. "Did I frighten you?" She asked, sounding full of hope.

"I was just a little in thought, Claudia." The Victorian replied and took her hand away from her stomach to continue typing on the keyboard.

"I tried hard!" The redhead admitted and then walked around the table to consider her properly. "How are you?"

"I am well." Helena replied automatically without looking at Claudia.

"Are you sure, Helena?" In response to Claudia calling her by her first name, the time traveller's eyebrows darted up in surprise. She looked up to meet the Caretaker's eyes.

"Because well." The girl sighed deeply, mustering her fingernails. "You _feel_ different."

"I do what?" The Brit stopped typing on the keyboard and regarded her friend with a confused facial expression.

"Hm." Claudia made, leaning against the desk HG was sat at. "It's hard to explain. The Warehouse is reacting to each agent differently. And to you in particular it has always been reacting a little unusual. I could always feel a little sadness, a little regret. But it's always incredibly fond of you." Claudia started moving around the room slowly while she spoke, Helena's gaze rested on her. The Victorian was still confused. "And now, you feel different. It's like the Warehouse is trying to hide something about you from me. And it's doing that for weeks, now."

Finally, HG understood what the Caretaker was talking about and so she tried hard to stiffle a laughter.

"And in addition, Steve keeps telling me that you keep lying to him. You're behaving odd, you are leaving a lot for the toilet to vomit your guts out. Myka manages to keep you and him away from the more dangerously-looking artifact cases. He's becoming bored and annoyed each time Pete tells him how awesome he and Mykes have been hunting down suspects while Jinksy and you deliver packages. But he's also worried. Firstly, because you're showing clear symptoms of being sick." Claudia grunted slightly and turned around. She was properly pacing around the room now, while talking more to herself than to the writer behind the desk. "Secondly, because you aren't talking to him and just avoid stuff. Thirdly, because you're lying to him."

The caretaker interrupted her journey around the room to glare carefully at HG who still sat behind the desk, absent-mindedly stroking her stomach.

"And I have to say I get that, too, HG. You and Myka are certainly behaving mysteriously." The redhead made a frustrated noise and then continued moving around the room. "You have to forgive me, but I tried to talk to Vanessa. Because I thought that if you have a medical problem, you would totally talk to her. And Vanessa told me she's not allowed to tell me and murmured something about doctor-patient confidentiality. And that, Helena, tells me that there's really something off-"

"Claudia?" HG interrupted her. The Victorian was tired of seeing the caretaker pace around the room.

"And I am all like: 'Vanessa dammit! I am the frakking Caretaker. If one of my agents and friends is sick, then I should totally know so I can see what I can do to help her.'" In frustration, Claudia raised her hands quickly towards the ceiling.

"Claudia?"

"But she didn't tell me anything." The redhead proclaimed. "No, in fact she literally shushed me out of the office instead. I was about to claudia into it again at night – to look a her files, but... even though I'm your boss, it's probably illegal and also not nice. So I am asking you directly." Quickly, Claudia spun on her heels to regard the Victorian with one eyebrow raised. The perfect Irene Frederic expression on her features, Helena was impressed and kept smiling. "Helena, are you sick? Is it bad? Are you dying?"

"What?" Helena asked in surprise.

"If you're dying, then tell me if I can do anything for you. How much time do you have left?Does it have something to do with the Bronze?" Claudia inched closer to the table with each question. She looked so incredibly worried it made Helena feel a tiny bit awful, as much as she was amused by the Caretaker's question. Claudia seemed to be as oblivious as Pete and Steve, even though they all knew about what Myka had seen during her time travel. The couple had talked to Regents about it, for crying out loud. Everyone was informed and should be able to conclude that Helena could be pregnant.

The Victorian smirked at Claudia and pointed at the plastic chair in front of her desk. "Dearest Claudia." She offered. "Please sit down."

"Oh my god!" The girl's squeaked. "You really are dying! What can I do?" Now, she started taking deep and shaky breaths.

"Claudia!" Helena ranted.

"Yes?" The younger woman looked at her with her eyes widened. HG could actually notice that she held her breath now.

"Do I _look_ as though I was dying?!" The inventor asked in a serious tone of voice. Then, she could watch how Claudia started surveying her thoroughly: That content look on the Victorian's face. A hand resting on her stomach. The knowing and joyful smile on her lips... that one raised eyebrow...

"Your voice sounds like your nose is stuffy." Claudia suggested with a shrug.

"That's indeed true." Helena agreed. "My nose is stuffy. According to my research it's because of the higher amount of blood flowing through my body right now. This causes my mucosaes to be swollen." Quickly, the writer took her hand away from her stomach and leaned forwards in her chair. "Would you mind sitting down?" She asked at Claudia's puzzled facial expression. The redhead obeyed instantly now, gasping in surprise as the Victorian reached over the desk to take her hands into her own. "Claudia, tell me." Helena smiled fondly. "What year is it?"

"It's 2018, HG. Why are you asking that?" The girl considered her, confusion evident in that crease in-between her eyebrows. "Does it have something to do with your disease? Do you have only years left?" It was obvious she had still trouble figuring out what Helena was trying to suggest her. The Brit smiled brightly at the thought. "No, only months, Claudia. It is _2018_. You should be quite good at maths since you work with all those computers. You do know that Myka travelled through time. She appeared in 2023 and in that year, Sarah will be five years old."

"You're talking about Sarah." Claudia noted, bowing her head. "That's good! But you're talking about her as though she already exists."

HG grunted in frustration and then stared at her friend with an eyebrow raised, smirking.

"Why are you looking at me like this and..." The crease in-between Claudia's eyebrows got deeper in reaction to the fact that Helena pressed her lips into a tight line. "Are you stifling a laughter?"

"I am." Helena admitted, nodding slowly. "Because seriously, Miss Donovan, Caretaker of Warehouse 13. For a genius, you are quite bad at figuring out the obvious." HG shook her head and then sighed deeply. "Claudia, I am not dying. I am pregnant."

Then, the Victorian leaned back in her chair to watch the dawning realisation on the redhead's face. Again, she ran a hand across her stomach while smiling amusedly. She could see how Claudia's eyes widened before she pointed a finger at the older woman: "You! You made tea with the ferret kettle!"

Now, the writer rolled her eyes. "Yes, I did indeed. I made tea with it. That's what Myka kept yelling at me during the first two weeks after we found out."

"You were yelling a lot at each other in the last weeks." Claudia admitted, nodding as though she was deeply in thought.

"No." Helena shrugged. "In fact it was me who yelled at Myka a lot. Hormonal imbalance, Claudia." The Victorian leaned forwards in her chair again, folding her hands on the desk. "Did you fully understand what I have said?"

"Yeah." Claudia replied monotonously. "I did. You're pregnant. I... Oh my god! HG!" Instantly, Claudia jumped from her chair, raising her arms like she was cheering. "You are pregnant! With Sarah!"

"Alright, now you understood." Helena slowly rose from her chair as well, watching the Caretaker who had started to pace around the room again. "I have to inform the Regents." The girl muttered. "Artie has to know that he can't send you on dangerous artifact cases anymore. He probably shouldn't send you on artifact cases at all. You're probably-" Claudia paused. "Oh my god HG!" Eventually, Claudia flew into the Victorian's arms, hugging her tightly. "You're pregnant! Like... becoming a mommy. I'm becoming an aunt!" She looked up into the older woman's dark eyes. "I mean if you're alright with that. I would like to... oh goood, the thought of Myka and you pushing around baby strollers is so so wrong. And oh my god! HG, you're pregnant!" The redhead hopped out of HG's arms to look at the writer's middle. "Can one already see something?" She asked, reaching out a hand.

HG took a big step back. "Claudia, touch my stomach and regret it!"

"Yeah, okay." Rolling her eyes, Claudia dropped her hand. She looked a little disappointed. "But can one?"

"Well, Myka is convinced she's already seeing something." The Victorian shrugged and looked down her own body. "At least I have gained weight." When she looked up at her friend again, Helena caught Claudia still staring at her stomach mesmerisedly. Helena sighed deeply and turned, so the redhead could face her from the side. Then, she pulled up the hem of her blouse to uncover her stomach. "If you look from the side, you can see an almost imperceptible swell."

"I'm seeing it!" Claudia squeaked and then performed a celebration jig right in front of her.

"Of course you do." Helena bowed her head.

"You made tea with the ferret kettle!" The redhead pointed a finger at her, sounding still absolutely thunderstruck about that. "Are you sure it won't pop out a ferret out in the end instead of a Sarah?"

"Claudia!" Now, the Victorian was becoming slightly annoyed by her excited friend.

The Umbilicus door opened before the Caretaker could react. Steve and Myka slowly entered, the woman interestedly eyeing Claudia. Quickly, Helena dropped the hem of her blouse and turned away, pushing her fingers through her hair. Claudia continued her celebration dance while HG sat back down on her chair. Carefully, Jinksy cleared his throat, causing the redhead to freeze in response. "Oh! Hi Jinksy!" She smiled, apparently trying to look casual until her gaze met Myka. "And Myka! Oh my god!" Instantly, Claudia rushed through the room and fell into the curly-haired agent's arms. Myka huffed in reaction while Claudia pressed her tightly and quietly kept repeating "Oh my god!"

With a questioning facial expression, Myka looked at her girlfriend who slightly nodded.

"What is going on, Claudia?" Steve questioned, shooting a worried glimpse at HG. "Did you...? Did you talk to HG?"

The Caretaker pulled back from the tall woman and then exchanged a look with Helena. The Victorian looked for a brief moment into her lover's eyes who nodded, answering Claudia's silent question. "Steve." Myka said and pointed at the plastic chair in front of Helena's desk. "You might wanna sit down."

* * *

The retirement home in which Mrs. Frederic was now living left an unsettling impression on Claudia. The Regents and the Caretaker had tried to make sure that Irene would be taken care of well. To be fair, this house in Sioux Falls was looking pretty nice. The nurses were polite to the inhabitants and the place was sunny and bright. But still...

Claudia had a feeling they had left Mrs. Frederic in some kind of institution and she was highly disgusted by the thought. Although Mrs. F had approved of it, - Irene liked living there.

But as she took her seat in front of the former Caretaker, Claudia wanted to shout at her how incredibly sorry she was for making Irene stay here, but she knew her mentor wouldn't want to hear that. Actually, Mrs. Frederic tried to live her life as normal as possible, barely talked about her illness and still tried to get briefed on Warehouse matters. She was still able to leave the retirement home in company of another person and her mind was mostly clear... unless she had an episode. Claudia had witnessed plenty of those episodes and was glad that they rarely happened.

The door to Mrs. Frederic's balcony was open, the cool air of an sunny early spring day blew through the room and Irene was pouring some coffee into the cups on the table in front of the redhead. The coffee cups had a floral design on them. Claudia fought hard to hold back a sigh.

After putting down her coffee pot, the former Caretaker sat down, folded her hands and considered her student with an attentive facial expression.

"So then, Claudia." The girl loved those words. It were the words Mrs. Frederic had said regularly to the redhead in the recent years, mostly connected to her education as the Caretaker of Warehouse 13. When Mrs. Frederic was saying those words, Claudia was feeling like a student again and not like a young woman who was responsible for a whole world of endless wonder. And who was frakking anxious about that. She knew she was leaving the impression that she had adjusted properly to her Caretaker responsibilities. But deep inside herself, Claudia was feeling anxious every day. Anxious about doing something wrong. Anxious about properly fucking up. All in all, Claudia was in her late twenties and constantly asked herself when they had allowed her to be an adult. Sometimes, she wanted to call her brother and confess to him she had trembled over his physical experiment and maybe ruined his studies. But her brother's physical experiments weren't what bothered her anymore. Claudia's problems were made of endless wonder, of artifacts, an impolite entity called Warehouse 13 that talked to her in the shape of her deceased friend. Her problems were made of time travellers, and agents, and an unborn child of which Mrs. Frederic was afraid.

"Tell me." The former Caretaker bowed her head. "How is it going in the Warehouse?"

Claudia pursed her lips slightly at the feeling of having swapped roles. Years ago, Mrs. Frederic had been the woman with the information on the Warehouse and Claudia had been the student. Now, Mrs. Frederic was some kind of consultant... sometimes. To the Caretaker, it felt like they had parked the former Caretaker somewhere until they needed her, which didn't happen often enough for Claudia's taste. Mrs. F was always eager to help, but Claudia never felt like somebody ever appreciated the old woman enough. To the redhead, the Regents were assholes for doing this.

Claudia did in fact appreciate Mrs. Frederic a lot. She was grateful for being friends with Irene and being able to talk to her when she was afraid. She could also talk to Jinksy or Pete and Myka, even to Artie and Helena. But actually, sometimes, Claudia couldn't tell them what she was dealing with or she didn't feel like they would understand her struggle.

The Warehouse family was Claudia's family, and Mrs. Frederic was a part of it.

And so Claudia stared at the spinning bubble on the coffee Irene had shoved over to her and sighed deeply. "It's happening." She admitted, her voice breaking. "I haven't thought about this in a while, so I missed the signs, but HG and Myka just told us. HG is pregnant."

Mrs. Frederic didn't say anything, but looked at her with the same facial expression she always considered her student with whenever Claudia was struggling with something. It was a calm and interested facial expression, typical for a teacher. This face said "I see the problem, Claudia. But what are you going to do about it?" The redhead felt safe seeing that face. Because it meant that, yes, there was indeed a problem, but this problem was also solvable.

When Claudia didn't go on speaking, Mrs. Frederic took a sip from her coffee. "Did you talk to the Warehouse about it?" She inquired calmly.

"Of course I did." Claudia responded, drinking from her coffee cup as well. "And well, Leena has never been quieter before."

"She didn't say anything?" Mrs. Frederic blinked in obvious confusion.

"She said it's not the time to ask questions but time to celebrate." The redhead shrugged. "She really doesn't want to tell me anything about on what's happening, Mrs. F. I tried repeatedly. She even vanished and broke the connection I needed to talk to her. After that the Warehouse didn't let me talk to my guide for a whole day."

"The Warehouse has always been quite stubborn, Claudia." Irene admitted, sounding apologetical.

"Yeah, but this only proves that the Warehouse really has a secret and doesn't want to let us know!" The redhead emphasised.

Tiredly, Irene blinked. She looked slightly distracted to Claudia. "How long until she will get born?"

"It looks like the end of October." Now, Claudia groaned frustratedly. "And Mrs. F, those are actually wonderful news. We should be happy." She put down the coffee cup. "It's the first child in the Warehouse family and I hope there will be many more. I like the thought of us becoming a bigger family. I hope Pete's the next one. He loves children and is slightly mad at Myka for being faster than him."

"Claudia." Mrs Frederic nodded once, showing she had understood what the Caretaker had said. "Of course this is something we should be looking forward to. But that girl is... different."

"The Warehouse is already reacting to the unborn child." Claudia whispered, shaking her head in desperation. "Should I talk to Myka and HG?"

"Well, Claudia, that's your decision. You are their Caretaker and you are going to look after the child. Do you think that it's important for her parents to know they might be raising a Caretaker themselves? Or that we're afraid she's a danger to the Warehouse." There was absolutely no emotion visible on her mentor's features, but Mrs. Frederic had raised a single eyebrow. The Caretaker look, Claudia groaned – internally this time.

"I am not going to tell HG Wells that we're afraid of her daughter!" The girl hissed. "That's the worst I could do."

"Alright." Mrs. F said and took another sip from her coffee.

"When the time is right, I will tell them that she might become Caretaker. Because Irene, even this is only a suspicion we have. We don't even know that. We only assume." Claudia continued, trying to keep her voice down. "Everything we are seeing are just circumstancial evidence. We don't see the whole picture. I afraid we're yelling 'Fire!' and then make HG run from it and then, there has only been smoke."

"I agree." Irene bowed her head again.

"I actually don't even believe Myka and HG would raise a child that would become a danger, Mrs. F." Claudia mentally noted that the former Caretaker was pretty unresponsive today. "Sarah will grow up in love and endless wonder. But all the time travel and the signs... There has to be a reason for all this fuckery with time travel and memories with her mothers. The Warehouse is highly interested in her. Something's off."

The former Caretaker stared at the door behind Claudia and nodded slowly. "We never know what will happen to us in this world full of endless wonder." She breathed quietly, clearly being inattentive. The redhead had troubles to fully understand her. Suddenly, Claudia felt woeful. "How are you?" She interrogated carefully, avoiding her mentor's eyes.

"As well as the circumstances allow me to feel, Claudia." Mrs. Frederic replied without showing any emotions. Claudia was getting this reply for years now. She was becoming annoyed of it. "Sometimes," Irene continued and the redhead's gaze shot up in surprise. "I just feel helpless. And I highly dislike admitting that."

"I'm here for you." Claudia whispered and then reached her hands over the table. But the former Caretaker didn't take them.

"And I am grateful for that, Claudia." Briefly, Irene looked into her eyes. "I am just interested in being aware of what is happening. As long as possible. Update me on Agent Bering and Agent Wells, and their daughter as often as possible, please."

"Of course, Mrs. F." Claudia pursed her lips. "Have you considered telling-"

"I will not inform my former employees about the fact that I am suffering from a slowly increasing dementia, Miss Donovan." Mrs. Frederic hissed, sounding so indignant that the girl frowned in shock.

"Irene." Claudia's voice was soft as she slowly rose from her chair to move around the table. But the former Caretaker shifted away. "Don't touch me, Claudia."

The girl's reaction was a nervous intake of breath. She could see how Irene closed her eyes.

"Because of all that professional distance you're keeping to us, you are forgetting that you're part of a family that cares about you. That you've always been part of this family and will always be." Claudia murmured, afraid to take a step closer to her mentor.

Irene still didn't open her eyes. She seemed to be quite upset. "My name is Irene Frederic." She said, slowly, clenching and unclenching her jaw.

"Mrs. F?" Claudia asked carefully, inching closer to the older woman now.

"I was born in 1902. The name of my mother is..." All of a sudden, the former Caretaker sobbed loudly, scaring the girl in front of her. Claudia swallowed anxiously. It was happening again. "It is..." Irene repeated without finishing her sentence. Tears were forming in the Caretaker's eyes. Claudia felt incredibly helpless, watching her mentor slowly losing her memory. "Mrs. Frederic, I am here. I can help you. You are pretty emotional right now. It's getting worse when you are..."

"I am sad." Mrs. Frederic admitted, her eyes snapping open.

"I know." Claudia responded and tried to give her mentor comfort with a fond smile. "I am, too."

"Can I see Leena?" The older woman pleaded. "When will she visit me?"

And with this, Claudia felt her heart breaking. She wiped away the tears in her eyes. "Leena can't visit you today." She lied, trying to sound as firm as possible. And even though she had lost count of saying this particular sentence to Irene Frederic, it did never get any easier.


	13. Part 2 - Chapter 6

**Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta.**

* * *

May

Harry Potter was a must read, according to Myka. Not only because she and Helena were awaiting a child that could like Harry Potter when old enough. No, Harry Potter was a must read for everyone, even for Victorian authors. And with this thought, Helena sat on her bed, trying to convince herself that Harry Potter was thrilling enough to distract her from her more occupying thoughts: not being on artifact hunt and hating it.

It wasn't that HG felt useless. She knew she was everything but that, but right now she was incredibly bored. Harry Potter was a really thrilling book series, but... well, Helena could be doing equally thrilling things herself in this very moment.

It was also really hard to find a suitable reading position. Currently, Helena was reading the _Order of the Phoenix_ and this book was rather heavy. Lying on her back was the best position for Helena and her slightly swollen stomach, but the weight of the book wouldn't allow her to lie this way since she would have to hold it above her head. After the _Goblet of Fire_ had fallen on the Victorian's face twice, she had decided that this position was unsuitable for reading the even thicker Order of the Phoenix.

Right now, Helena was sitting slightly cross-legged, her back resting against the headboard of her bed, the book put on her feet, and a hand placed on her own swollen middle. So far, this position was alright for her. But HG knew it would only take minutes until her neck began to ache. When did reading become a hard task for her?

There was a knock on the door. Helena sighed in annoyance, although she wasn't quite sure which circumstance she was more annoyed about: reading or getting interrupted by Pete.

After living with the writer for a few years, Pete had eventually learned how to knock. HG had taught him and for the man, this lesson hadn't always been a pleasant experience, although 'pleasant experience' depended on its definition. For Pete, it had meant that he had run into Helena changing clothes one time too often and was now scarred for life. The agent had started seeing the Victorian as his sister and seeing her naked had been displeasing for him, just as getting hit by her afterwards.

So, it wasn't a surprise that Pete didn't open the door until Helena had put her book away, shifted on the bed and then demanded him to come in. After he had carefully opened the door to peek inside, finding Helena with her clothes on, Pete rushed into the room and jumped on top of the bed, causing it to lurch. "Pete-quake!" He yelled excitedly. Making a face, Helena rubbed her forehead. "Yes, Pete?"

Her friend presented her a colourful bucket with a cow on it. He grinned, showed her the two spoons in his other hand and asked: "Do you maybe have a weird craving for cookie dough ice cream?"

Quite interested, Helena eyed the bucket in his hands. The cow was wearing a blue apron. "Cookie dough?"

"In ice cream, yes." Pete responded and held the spoons closer to her.

"That does sound quite compelling." The Victorian smiled, moved closer to him and took a spoon. It indeed did. Cravings were a part of her pregnancy Helena didn't struggle with. It was alright to eat strange things. Sarah demanded it, so the Victorian expressed that and often, Myka drove out into the night to get it. For example: steak and kidney pie. In Univille. At 3 am. The reason for this had certainly been that Helena had fallen asleep reading Harry Potter again, but the curly-haired woman had her resources.

"I'm still mad at you for telling me last." Pete huffed while carefully opening the bucket of ice cream.

"Yes, you keep repeating that for weeks now, Pete." The Victorian sighed before taking her spoon to get some ice cream for herself. "We have already told you how sorry we are."

"Myka should have totally told me first. I'm her best friend." The American shoved a spoon full of ice cream into his mouth and then gave Helena a glare.

The writer tried the ice cream, groaning while her eyes lolled back. "This tastes marvellous." She muttered before taking the next one. "I looked into a brighter future when I got bronzed and sadly, society is still struggling with that, but artificial tastes are definitely a perk of living in the present." HG swallowed down another spoon-full of ice cream. "Myka wants me to only eat 'healthy' for Sarah but honestly... this is wonderful."

"So we carry on our secret weird craving meetings?" Pete interrogated between two spoons of ice cream.

"Of course we do." Helena grinned mischievously. They clinked their spoons.

"Everything for the little ferret in you." Her friend stated before reaching for the bucket again. Helena grunted in response. "Stop calling her ferret." She sighed deeply. "Sarah's certainly not a ferret."

"Can we be sure?" Pete held up his spoon while arguing. "I mean... she's a product of the ferret kettle. What tells us there won't be a ferret popping out of you in the end?"

"I have seen pictures." Helena commented dryly.

"Beans with oversized heads." Pete retorted.

"We have seen her in the future." HG added.

"No proof of-"

"Oh for Christ's sake, Peter! I am sorry we didn't tell you first. We wanted to!" Helena ranted. "We really did. But then Jinksy got suspicious and Claudia appeared, and everything went rather fast. Stop calling my daughter a ferret or so god help me!"

The Victorian glared at her friend who just lowered his eyes back to the bucket. "Hel-ormones." He murmured.

"No." Helena clarified. "Annoyed Victorian."

They sat in silence until Pete put his spoon into the bucket again. "So how is it going?" He inquired, sounding pretty innocent now.

"As usual." The writer joined him with her spoon. "Do you want to be briefed on recent events?"

Her friend nodded eagerly.

"Myka has told her parents that we're awaiting a daughter." Helena recounted. "They've been quite... quiet in reaction to the news but do want to visit us. Lovely Myka struggles with telling her father that Sarah is in fact hers."

Pete made a face in reaction to her words. "Well, that would be some kind of news."

"I have told her that she still didn't choose her one person." The Brit mentioned before stuffing her mouth with ice cream. This still tasted wonderful.

Pete gaped at her. "Are you implying...?"

"Well, Pete." Helena swallowed down the sweet mass. "Frankly speaking her father already knows that there's something curious about his daughter, doesn't he?" Helena leaned back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. "Her father already knows I am his daughter's most favourite Victorian author. He has witnessed his daughter working with rather peculiar things. Why can't we consider a decision like this?" Every word the inventor said was supported with a small wield of her spoon she held towards the ceiling.

In reply, Pete made some slurping noises with the ice cream. "You have to know..." He mumbled with the spoon resting in his mouth. "They usually don't talk about things."

"Things?" Helena repeated, still looking at the ceiling. Her hand found its way to her stomach, and she started gently rubbing it. It had a calming effect on her.

"Any...thing." Pete clarified. "They just don't talk. They never did. At some point they made small attempts to but... well, it's awkward."

The Victorian sat up again, finding him with the spoon in his mouth and a hand in the bucket. She deeply looked into his eyes, ignoring the smears of ice cream on his chin. "Maybe time has come to change that. I want Sarah to have as much interaction with her family as possible." She sighed, putting her spoon on the nightstand next to the Order of the Phoenix. "But well, that's Myka's decision and I can't-"

"Should I speak to her?" With a wet pop, Pete pulled the spoon out of his mouth. The writer mustered him for a long moment. "If you think that would help." She shrugged.

"Let's be honest here, I know how to push my partner's buttons." He grinned and then scrunched his nose. "That sounded a lot like innuendo, yikes." Quickly, Pete's eyes darted through the room as though he was looking for something. Maybe a change of topic. Helena was watching her friend with an amused smile on her lips.

"How's Adelaide?" He forced out, eventually, innocently reaching his spoon into the ice cream again. "Since we're all talking about our one person and stuff."

"Adelaide teaches herself to knit." Helena responded, looking into empty space.

"To knit." Pete blinked, once, twice, then shrugged. "Adventurous."

"She has already done a bobble hat and an onesy." She gave him a little cough. "Well, she's excited about my pregnancy and... indeed,... I barely see her." The Victorian inhaled deeply through her nose to suppress a whiny noise. "She's a teenager now and-"

"With that she needs time for boys and experimenting with girls, trying to smoke in secret. It's really important to wear make up and expensive clothes in that time of your life so... yeah, I can understand she's busy." Pete concluded. Then he gave Helena a fond smile. "But there will be better times. When she's done doing all that she will probably come back for sleepovers."

When he had finished his sentence, HG looked up at him, her eyebrows in a knit.

"What?" Pete started stirring whatever was left in the ice cream bucket.

"That's actually a part I have been thinking about." Helena chewed on her bottom lip before taking the bucket and the spoon out of her friend's hands and putting it on the nightstand as well. She couldn't look at what he was doing with that. Gladly, her morning sickness was a lot better but Pete doing disgusting things with ice cream just reminded her of it again.

"Hm?" For a second, the man gaped at his empty hands and then looked up to meet her eyes.

"Sleepovers?" Helena tried. "Where would we possibly have sleepovers?" The Victorian waved a hand around, presenting Pete the room she was sharing with Myka. It was still the room of a B&B. Myka's books and the paper work were in the curly-haired woman's old room which they used as an office. But that was it – and their bedroom was really full. "The Inn is a little stuffed. Where can we possibly keep Sarah? In the first months, she could sleep here in our room, I'm certain. But she'll grow and... we could empty out Myka's old room but I don't believe she would be glad about putting away her books."

"Well." Pete shuffled a little closer, resting his hands on his knees. It seemed like he was really deep in thought. "I think Myka would be really glad to put away her books... for her daughter."

"That's not what I am talking about, Pete." Helena grunted, pushing her fingers through her hair.

"But?" The agent raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

"I quite like the B&B. I really do." The Victorian explained. "And the people living in it. It's so wonderful to see you every day." She was struggling hard to fight the sarcasm in her voice. "Especially you. But I have the urge to have something for Myka, Sarah and me. For us as the family we will become."

Something on Pete's face changed all of a sudden. Helena tried her best but could not read what it was. He looked a little like he just had realised something, but what could that possibly be?

"Something like a house?" He inquired, sounding like he was walking on thin ice and was carefully finding out where its weak spots were. He kept looking in this curious way at Helena who couldn't put any sense into it.

"Indeed." She agreed. "Something like a house."

Pete started grinning, the puzzling look on his face instantly gone. "Sounds like nesting instinct to me." He mentioned and then shrugged.

* * *

Helena was just preparing her morning tea the day after she had talked to Pete. The Victorian was living without any caffeine now which meant that right now in front of her she had herbal tea. HG Wells hated herbal tea, but she needed something that made her at least believe that drinking it in the morning helped her to wake up. And while the inventor poured the boiling water over the loose leaves, her girlfriend walked in, wearing only her sports outfit. Which meant: A white vest top, blue shorts and sneakers. The older woman paused and openly ogled Myka's long legs.

"It's getting quite warm." She commented with her mouth suddenly dry. Helena was referring to the weather. She really was.

With a fluid motion Myka yanked open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, the muscles on her upper arms dancing. "I agree, but I also want to go for a run." The American stated before she opened the bottle, took a sip and then grinned at her girlfriend. After closing the bottle and placing it on the counter, she leaned forward and started stretching. Helena's gaze settled on her toned shoulders. "Wanna join me?" Myka asked and HG had the feeling she just had missed something. Join for what? Intensively eyeing those muscles between Myka's shoulder blades, Helena swallowed. "Join?"

"I'm going for a run." Myka put her legs apart and touched the toes of her right foot with her left hand. "Remember?"

"Ah." Now the Victorian understood. "Well." She looked at her cup of tea once again and realised that she had almost spilled the water. Helena chuckled quietly. "I agree with Claudia when she says that humans should only run if chased. And," The writer put away the water boiler, "I believe Sarah and I won't be able to manage proper running anymore." Briefly, HG rubbed her swollen stomach.

Myka stood up straight again and pouted a little, leaving Helena surprised. She didn't understand why it suddenly was so important for her girlfriend to have the Victorian joining her. "It's such a nice day outside." The American mentioned and took the water bottle. "I could use someone to carry my bottle for me and..." Shrugging, Myka eyed the older woman. "You own a bike."

"I do indeed." Slowly, Helena took a sip from her tea, shuddering. Herbal tea.

Myka smiled brightly at her.

* * *

June

"That certainly wasn't a coincidence!" Helena was standing in a slight distance to Myka who was busy painting something on the wall in front of them. It was the wall of the house the couple had found during Myka's run and bought afterwards. It was an old house, shingles loose, its doors were mouldering... There was a lot of work to be done to fix it up properly, but it was theirs. Helena and Myka eventually found its owner after two weeks of research, and only with Claudia's help.

So now they owned a house.

And this was the beginning of its renovation. HG was wearing a blue bib overall and a yellow building-site helmet. She didn't like herself in that but they were on a construction area and that meant that safety was put first and old clothes were required. Helena had to buy _new_ old clothes because her _old _old clothes didn't fit her anymore.

Myka dropped the big brush she had used into the bucket with red paint in it. Then she teasingly smiled at her girlfriend. "Perhaps."

"You did see that house in the future during your time travel incident." Helena added while she tried to lift the sledgehammer she had leaned on from the ground. Myka stilled her hands and took the hammer out of them. "I'm going to do that for you. I don't want you to lift any heavy objects anymore."

"Myka?" Helena raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at her girlfriend who had turned away from her, carrying the hammer. "I am trying to talk about the fact I mentioned in front of Pete, - that I want to have a place for our own. And the next day, the very next day, you went for a run and asked me to come with you – which you barely do and surprise: on our way, we find a house."

"Uh-huh." Myka made out, weighing the hammer in her hands. She looked at the wall in front of her and the red paint with which she had just written the word "PAST".

Helena sighed in frustration. Then she looked back at her girlfriend and smirked. "Are you sure that's not a carrying wall?" She asked smugly.

"Yes, I am pretty certain. I checked it three times and then talked to our architect about it." Myka stated, sounding quite indignant.

"So it's safe to break it down?" Helena inquired carefully.

"It's totally okay, Helena." Myka frowned at the older woman. "I checked on everything three times. Three times. I am not buying a house just to break it down completely and bury my girlfriend and my unborn daughter in it."

"Was there a wall in the future?" The Brit tilted her head, genuinely interested.

"No, there wasn't a wall in the future. They must have... damn it, Helena." Myka grunted, showing her distress. "Yes. I have indeed seen this house when I have travelled through time. I have talked to Pete and he told me that you were thinking about moving out. So I thought I could show it to you. You got me. Are you happy now?" Myka put the sledgehammer down and rested her hand on it.

"Very happy, darling, and not only about your confession. Thank you." Helena laughed briefly. "It's nothing bad. I am incredibly happy we did find this, Myka. But... honestly, you could have come up with it a tiny bit earlier. With that, we would be able to move in shortly after Sarah would be born. Now, she will be four months old when the renovation is finished."

"Helena?" Myka questioned, sounding bored.

"Yes, darling?"

"Do you want me to do this now or do you want to argue with me about time travel?" The younger woman pointed at the sledgehammer.

"No, dearest Myka. Just break down the wall that reads 'Past'." The Victorian snorted. "It's an adorable gesture and I like what your muscles do when you wield the hammer."

"Motivation first." Myka grinned. Helena watched her girlfriend's smile and then moved forward to pull the curly-haired woman as close as her pregnant stomach allowed. With her fingertips roaming over soft skin, Helena cupped the American's cheeks and then softly covered her mouth with her own. She put a lot of passion into this kiss, teasing and torturing Myka, who moaned in reaction. With a smirk, Helena pulled back, finding the other woman licking her lips. "Go break that wall down, darling."

**This chapter is referring to the final scene of Time Leaves Scars (the one before the epilogue).**


	14. Part 2 - Chapter 7

**Hello everyone, I am sorry for the hiatus but that thesis kept me busy.**

**thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta.**

* * *

July

With a frustrated sigh, Helena looked at her own mirror reflection. Myka closed the drawer from which she had just took out her shirt and chewed on the inside of her cheek. She eyed her girlfriend from the side and then pulled the shirt over her head. However, Helena was shirtless and had her hair tied back in a strict pony tail. Currently, the Victorian was fumbling with the fly of her trousers and this was what had made Myka struggle internally. HG looked deeply concentrated, her eyebrows pulled together, eyes slightly narrowed as she kept working on the button of her trousers, nimble fingers trying to pull the fly together while pulling up the zipper.

And with another frustrated sigh, Helena gave up. Myka knew that these trousers had been the last ones that had fit properly and now... The American had promised to take the older woman on a ride to Pierce to look for maternity fashion together, but then, another artifact case had appeared out of nowhere and Myka had been busy. And now, these trousers didn't fit anymore, too.

Carefully, the American approached the raven-haired woman from behind and put her arms around Helena's swollen stomach. Gently, she started drawing circles with her fingertips on HG's soft skin and nuzzled her neck. But the Victorian just groaned, disgruntled, still watching the fly under her fingers. Mission to distract: failed.

"So these are too small too. Are you good at sewing?" Helena questioned with _that_ undertone in her voice. Myka knew she was mad at her. But what could they do? It wasn't easy to have a child while working for the Warehouse. They had already struggled with their private lives when there hadn't been Sarah growing in the older woman's stomach. Claudia and Artie worked hard to arrange their schedules with each other so the two women could spend time together and plan their life. In the next months Pete and Steve would start working together as a team, so Myka would be able to take some time off, just like Helena. But internally, the curly-haired woman already saw images of herself missing her daughter's birthday or first words or anything like that because of artifact hunt and saving the world. If Myka was sure of anything, then it was that having a child and working for the Warehouse wouldn't be easy for either of them. They could call themselves lucky that they were living in fact with the people they were living with and that Pete, Claudia, Artie, Abigail, Vanessa and Steve would support them. _Advanced co-parenting_, Myka thought.

"No." She admitted humbly. "I have to say that I pretty suck at sewing." Myka sighed deeply, her hands still roaming over HG's naked stomach. The Victorian clicked her tongue in reaction to Myka's words. "I am sorry, Helena. I promise that next weekend, we will go to Pierce and get you a few new pants." Gently, the younger woman kissed the inventor's neck, her lips wandering over Helena's skin towards her shoulder. Myka reached up to give the older woman's bra strap a slight pull. Instantly, it brushed down her upper arm. The American smirked and continued kissing Helena's shoulder. Her left hand was still resting on HG's stomach, while her other one slowly caressed her upper arm.

The Victorian snorted but Myka felt her shift against her. Helena was arching her neck to give Myka more space. "And what will I do until then? Shall I walk around with my trousers undone?"

"Why not?" Tenderly, Myka reached her right hand around the older woman's upper body and brushed her fingertips over HG's breast. She stroked over the fabric first, before her hand moved up and teased the skin in the inventor's cleavage. In the mirror in front of them, the younger woman watched Helena's eyes flutter. But the Brit was fighting hard to keep them opened. She considered Myka with a determined facial expression. As their eyes met, the curly-haired woman grinned against the skin on Helena's shoulder. Myka's left hand reached downwards, while she purred: "Then, the access is definitely easier."

"Myka." Helena warned when the younger agent's hand met hers on her fly. But then, Myka's fingers teased HG's nipple through the fabric of her bra which caused the older woman to whimper. "Anything you want to share?" Myka asked playfully before she pushed the Victorian's hands away and started caressing the skin that Helena's opened fly revealed. Her fingertips brushed against the rim of the older woman's undergarments.

"I..." Helena murmured. "No time... it's... not..."

"Well, am I the one to blame, Helena?" Myka breathed into her ear. "You stood there with no shirt on, talking about being unable to close your pants."

"I meant that more literally." The older woman forced out and audibly sucked in the air when Myka attempted to reach into her trousers. But then, the curly-haired woman pursed her lips. "They are really tight." She admitted ruefully, brushing her hand over Helena's stomach again.

"Well, I am pregnant." Helena mentioned with a smirk. With a possessive growl, Myka spun her around to kiss her, hands reaching up to open the older woman's pony tail. "I don't like that." She breathed against the inventor's lips. The older woman chuckled into the kiss when Myka's hands roamed again over her swollen stomach. "But this I like."

"I know." HG replied with a smug grin. The younger woman pulled back to regard her fully.

"Lie down on the bed." Myka commanded, her facial expression set.

"Myka." Helena interjected again. "Is this-?"

But the younger woman just growled for another time, causing HG to shudder and then comply. A little cumbersomely, the Victorian lay back and watched the curly-haired woman clambering on bed, too. Leaning on her right elbow above Helena, Myka kissed her girlfriend, firmly and passionately. Her tongue teasingly brushed against HG's, causing the older woman to whimper again. "When Dr. Calder talked about an unpredictable sexual desire," Helena panted, wincing when Myka's left hand caressed the inner side of her thigh. "I thought she was talking about me..." The American just grinned when she was pulled closer by her lover in reaction to her knuckles running over Helena's womanhood.

"Like I said." Myka replied, paying attention to the older woman's neck again. "It's not my fault."

Helena was breathing heavily now, her hips moving slightly when the American pulled carefully at her shoulders to shift her on her side. Myka reached behind HG's back, to open her bra, her stomach making contact with Helena's swollen one.

Myka paused, her fingers resting on the clasp of Helena's bra.

"Myka." Helena pressed out, rather impatient. Her fingers gripped the hem of Myka's shirt.

The American's eye brows shot up in surprise and then, she looked down at the older woman's stomach. She let go of Helena's bra, ignoring the inventor's frustrated groan.

"Myka!" HG demanded, rolling her eyes when Myka responded with a loud "Shhhh!" The younger woman reached her hand down to press it softly against Helena's stomach.

"You cannot just work me up like this and-" In reaction to the Victorian's disappointed words, Myka shook her head. Helena whimpered once more, sounding annoyed this time. But then, the American smiled, because there it was again: the tiny thud against her hand, imperceptible when one wasn't paying too much attention. But Myka... had an eye... or maybe also a feeling for the details. The curly-haired woman grinned, giggling with glee, almost child-like.

"Helena." She whispered, voice cracking in her throat. "I can feel her."

Helena looked down at Myka whose head rested on her chest, a hand pressed tightly against the older woman's stomach. Again, there was a tiny movement under it.

"Hm?"

"She's kicking, Helena!" Myka proclaimed, keen. Softly, Helena smiled, and carefully pushed her hands through the younger woman's curls. "She's been doing that for quite some time now, Myka." HG covered Myka's hand on her stomach gently with her own.

"Yeah, I know, I know." Myka muttered, shaking her head slightly. "You were able to feel her kicking. You're even able to feel her in the Warehouse and I'm not, but Helena, now I can feel her." The younger woman laughed when she felt another kick against her hand. Then, she looked up at the Brit who had curled up a corner of her mouth. "I am glad you can feel her, Myka." Helena stated with her eyes gleaming. The American's smile just brightened when there was another thud. She looked down again and leaned closer to the swell of HG's stomach. "Hello, Sarah." Myka whispered, overwhelmed with joy. After all these pictures she had seen and after watching Helena's stomach grow, it finally felt real. These thuds against her skin felt like the first real proof of Sarah's existence. Carefully, Myka brushed her lips over the spot where she had felt her daughter kicking. "It's me, your mommy." The American whispered in reaction to the movement against her lips.

"So... you are the mommy?" Helena asked, smirking.

"Yes, of course I am." Myka replied, not even looking up to her girlfriend. She was distracted, she really was. "You can be the momma or anything like that, but I'll be the mommy. No discussion." Again, the American shifted, resting her cheek against Helena's stomach. "Hello, Sarah." She whispered for another time.

"Well." Helena sounded a bit disappointed. "I guess she has your undivided attention now."

Quickly, Myka looked up at her, realisation growing on her face. "Oh, Helena, I'm sorry, I just-" There was another kick which caused Myka to interrupt her sentence and look back down, smiling.

Helena sighed deeply and then pulled slightly at Myka's shirt. "Come up here." She murmured. Lingering her hand on HG's stomach, the curly-haired woman moved slightly up to be embraced by her girlfriend. "She's quite active today." Helena explained in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "So you can stay this way until she becomes tired, which I hope will happen soon."

"Helena, again, I am-" Myka started, but the older woman just shook her head and leaned in to kiss Myka tenderly.

This was how they stayed for quite a long time. Pressed closely together, giggling every now and then whenever Myka felt another kick, a proof of her daughter's existence under Helena's skin. Helena kissed her girlfriend every time it happened, watched Myka's joyful face attentively, the American could feel that. In fact, Myka couldn't help but feel completely overwhelmed. After all this time, a physical proof. And so her hand rested on Helena's stomach, Myka spoke to her daughter as though the girl could hear her, feeling HG's loving gaze on herself... just until those movements faded away.

"And now she's asleep. Finally." Helena whispered after a while and looked playfully at Myka, who had her eyebrows in a knit. - "Wouldn't we dist-"

"Darling." Helena cut in strictly. "She did just interrupt my sex life so I am in no embarrassment to disrupt her sleeping schedule." Now, the inventor smirked. "And judging by her sleeping habits so far, I would say that she rather doesn't care for that."

With a sly grin, HG tilted the younger woman's head up with the tip of her index finger so their lips could meet again. Once more, Myka let her hands roam over Helena's back to open her bra clasp. When she had reached it, the door bell rang downstairs.

Helena groaned loudly in obvious frustration. She glowered at Myka, who had instantly jumped up. "Oh hell! I totally forgot about that!" Myka exclaimed, moving through the room to get her jacket out of the closet. "I'm rarely forgetting things so it clearly must be it!"

The Victorian on the bed sighed deeply and rolled her eyes, when she heard Pete yelling up from downstairs. "Mykes, the Berings are here."

"We're coming!" His partner shouted back, slipping into her jacket.

"Apparently not." Helena murmured and then got up from the bed. "I have to make clear, darling, that this is not over."

"Yes." Myka nodded before looking into the mirror to brush her fingers through her curls.

With a deep sigh, HG looked down at her trousers again. "And with this, we're back to the main problem: my trousers." Helena didn't catch Myka's smirk when the American pushed her backwards against the wall all of a sudden. Quickly, the American knelt down in front of HG who shook her head. "This doesn't help at all, dear." But instead of pulling Helena's trousers down, Myka carefully pulled up the zipper and then fumbled with the button. When she was finished, she watched Helena look down with a genuine interest on her face. The younger woman had hooked the Victorian's hair tie onto the fly and the button. The trousers weren't closed, but the hair tie held the fly together so Helena wouldn't walk around risking to lose her trousers somewhere during their meeting with Myka's family.

"That's innovative." Helena admitted and laughed loudly.

* * *

Helena and Myka had spent time with Jeannie and Warren on the B&B's terrace, chatting. The topics had been pretty light so far. But now, HG had taken Jeannie by the hand and led her into the kitchen. They wanted to make tea, leaving Myka and her father alone. HG and her girlfriend had planned on this. This was the agent's chance to talk to her father, and talking to him was really something she wasn't that used to.

So she has profusely cleared her throat, feeling awkward before starting with:

"Dad." Well, this was a good first move. Mr. Bering looked up at his daughter, drawing his eyebrows together. He seemed to be interested, which was fine. But then, Warren frowned and Myka struggled. She bit her lip.

"This is a Bed and Breakfast, Myka." Warren muttered, sounding absent. "You are both living in a Bed and Breakfast."

His daughter nodded thoughtfully in reaction. "Yeah." She shrugged, looking to the upper left to search for words. "I am aware. I'm living here for almost ten years now, dad. Since I have that job, you know. You just never visited me."

"How do you want... well." Mr. Bering seemed to look for words, too. "Raise y- a child here?" Uncomfortably, he dropped his gaze to the table.

Myka mentally noted his choice of words but then decided to ignore it. She knew his problem and even though she felt sad about this particular problem, she would interrupt his struggle with accepting Sarah right now. "We aren't going to raise her here." The agent stated. "Helena and I bought a house, just a little down the street. There's currently a big renovation going on in there."

"A house." Her father repeated and looked up at her.

"Right." Myka responded, bowing her head for emphasis. "Enough space for Helena and me to raise your granddaughter."

In response to his daughter's last words, Warren sharply sucked in the air. "Myka..." He began, shook his head slightly and then spoke on. "You know... I am alright with this. That you have a ... girlfriend instead of a husband. That you're living out here. That you won't marry, that you-"

"Dad, she is your granddaughter." Myka looked directly into his eyes, strict, determined. He froze.

"What?"

"Do you remember Edgar Allan Poe's notebook?" Myka interrogated quickly.

"Uhm... yeah, that day I had a stroke." Her father replied easily, but looked confused about her change of topic.

"You didn't have a stroke." The curly-haired woman gave back.

"I know." He nodded without breaking eye contact. It was his daughter who looked down to the table again. Before Myka continued, she briefly pursed her lips.

"Dad, you already figured out that Helena is in fact H.G. Wells. I have no idea how you did, but you did."

"I did." From the corner of her eye, Myka could see him nod. Before looking up again, the agent clenched and unclenched her fists under the table. "So..." She met his eyes. "You can believe me, dad, when I simply say that the child growing in my girlfriend's stomach really is my daughter." Now, Myka closed her eyes. She could feel Warren staring at her, thunderstruck.

"What-"

"Dad, I am not really working for the Secret Service anymore even though my badge says so." Myka opened her eyes and looked directly into his while she spoke, free from her chest. She felt liberated somehow. "Instead, I am working for another top secret facility and it's really hard to explain."

To her surprise, Warren's face softened at those words. "You could try." He suggested. "For me. I... I have accepted your girlfriend is H.G. Wells."

Myka smiled briefly and then took a deep breath. "There is endless wonder in this world, dad." She began. "Like... supernatural objects. Artifacts." The curly-haired woman's eyes started gleaming while she spoke. Her job was her passion and in some way, she was really comfortable talking about it. "We still don't know how they work and... the world isn't ready for them, yet. So... we store them in a really big Warehouse to keep the world safe from them."

"Objects." Warren looked surprised, but then he narrowed his eyes at her like he understood what she was talking about. "Like Poe's notebook?"

"His pen, dad." Myka clarified. "Everything you write with that pen becomes reality. Most artifacts have an upside and a downside. That's why we try to lock them away because they can be really dangerous."

"Downsides." Her father murmured, obviously struggling with making sense of this.

"Feeling those written words flow through your body when you come into the contact with the ink, - this can feel like a stroke." Myka explained naturally and eyed her father in anticipation.

"That really is a lot to understand, Myka." Mr. Bering watched her for a moment and then looked down at his own hands.

"It is, dad." Myka agreed. "But after all of this there are basically only two things you really need to understand." She cleared her throat and then shifted a little closer with her chair. "Firstly: I am working as an agent for this facility and we are only allowed to give this information to one person in our lives. Which means that now, you are my one person."

Warren's face changed and Myka couldn't tell at all how to read the expression on his face. It looked like a glimpse of pride, but she wasn't sure. "And what about your mother?"

Myka sighed before smiling briefly. "I think mom has her own way of figuring things out, dad. She is something like a quiet observer, isn't she? For all those years now." At that, the agent pursed her lips.

"I can't talk to her about this?" He concluded, sighing.

"You cannot talk to anybody about this, or we would have to kill you." Myka laughed nervously until he looked up at her, horrified. "That was a joke, dad."

"It wasn't funny." He responded, sounding mortified.

"Yeah, but I tried." Myka took another deep breath. "The second thing you have to understand, and that's the reason why I am telling you this in the first place – even though it doesn't matter for me at all – is that... Sarah is my daughter. Helena's and mine. We had... some kind of accident with an artifact, dad, with one of those objects. She wasn't planned and that's why Helena and I didn't marry. Or why our house won't be ready before she'll be born. Because... it was a surprise for us as well." The agent shrugged. "But she is my daughter – she would even be my daughter if her DNA wasn't mine. But she's 50 percent... made of me. And that makes her your granddaughter, dad." The curly-haired woman once looked again deeply into her father's eyes. "She would also be your granddaughter if there wouldn't be a blood relation. But I think that this makes it easier for you, doesn't it?"

Warren stared at Myka, his face completely blank. Myka wanted to add something, but she was interrupted by his whisper. "Sarah."

His daughter snorted in relief. "Yes, dad. That will be her name. That will be your granddaughter's name." When she caught the corners of his mouth twitching until he curled them up into a slight smile, she laughed briefly.

"And your mother?" He asked, eyeing the entrance to the B&B. There was a loud laughter coming from the kitchen. "I think..." Myka muttered, lost in thought. "I think it doesn't matter to her. But in her own way, she already knows, don't you think?"

"Sarah." Warren Bering whispered again.

Myka smiled fondly, meeting his gaze. "I felt her kick for the first time today, dad."

* * *

"I am proud of you." Helena whispered in the darkness of their room. Myka turned in bed, reaching forwards to pull her girlfriend closer. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around Helena's naked middle and then rested her head against the swell.

"I don't think I have to say that." The older woman made clear. "But sometimes, one cannot say this often enough. I am proud of you. You did well."

"Mhm." Myka mumbled, sounding drowsy. Helena chuckled at the realisation and brushed her hands over the younger woman's naked back, up her neck and then lingered at the nape. Fondly, she rubbed the soft skin there.

"We both did well." Myka hummed, proving that she was actually awake.

Helena smiled thinking about her girlfriend's words.


	15. Part 2 - Chapter 8

**Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta.**

* * *

August

Helena was sitting in a chair in front of the opened living room's door that led to the B&B's backyard. It was uncomfortably hot. Of course South Dakota had to have a heatwave now that Helena was in the third trimester of her pregnancy. Sweating was becoming an issue, same for swollen feet.

Currently the Victorian felt like an elephant stuck in the African savannah, with the only difference that she wasn't made for the African savannah like elephants usually were. This elephant was made for British weather which meant rain and clouds, not the burning sun of a heatwave like this.

So now, this elephant was sitting in the living room of the B&B, her feet resting in a water bucket. She was hoping for some draught from the outside that would come through the door. The Helephant was dressed in her thinnest summerdress. She was feeling awkward, sweating like hell and trying to concentrate on the notes she was taking in her journal considering that one invention she wanted to work on as soon as Myka allowed her anywhere near her lab again (which would probably happen after Sarah was born because the fact that Myka didn't allow Helena in the lab she had set up in the Warehouse was connected to her pregnancy).

Claudia was basking in her bikini on the B&B's terrace right in front of Helena. The Victorian was convinced that this couldn't be healthy. Even without being pregnant, HG wouldn't lie in the direct sunlight like this. She had always had sensitive skin and didn't like to burn it.

At the moment the Caretaker was the writer's only companion. Myka had finally also taken her time off from the Warehouse, but she used it mostly to observe the renovation of their new house which meant she was running around it to make sure the builders didn't do anything wrong. In the evenings, she'd come home and tell Helena what she would have done differently or better – without being a builder, so Helena sincerely doubted that she could do any of the things she was talking about. However, Myka's behaviour was calming, now that they were coming really close to their daughter's birth. It gave Helena the feeling everything would be settled when Sarah would be with them (even though this wouldn't be the case since the ongoing renovations needed time).

Pete and Steve worked as partners now, which was sometimes annoying and sometimes awkward. But they worked hard on getting along with each other. Right now they were on artifact hunt in France.

Artie was in the Warehouse. He had said that he had something incredibly important to do, but Helena knew that he secretly enjoyed the fact that the Warehouse had a good working air conditioner. Meanwhile Abigail was in the frontyard, working in the flower beds. HG really didn't understand how she could do proper gardening during this weather, but the former therapist seemed to thrive on heat.

Helena appreciated the fact that Myka had at last taken time off because it didn't leave HG to be the only one at the B&B who wasn't working on artifact cases. Even Abigail was every now and then. Sometimes, a feeling of being useless overcame the Victorian. She knew she wasn't useless because she still did artifact research for the team in the field and on top of that she was growing her baby elephant called Sarah. The latter was really hard work.

Thank goodness, the morning sickness had disappeared somewhen after the fourth month of pregnancy. Now, Helena was seven months in and... indeed, already mentally done with being pregnant. 'Most interesting time of a woman's life', hell, no! HG had worked for Warehouse 12 and was working for Warehouse 13. That was her most interesting time. This was just her second pregnancy, she had made this experience once with Christina. It had been a pleasant experience, thank you very much. Making this experience in her life once had been enough. Frankly speaking, Helena had never felt the urge to become pregnant for a second time, and it didn't help that Dr. Calder kept telling her that "Every pregnancy is different, HG." in this rather overjoyed tone of voice. Of course being pregnant with Sarah was entirely different from being pregnant with Christina. The child that had intruded her body now... – was growing in her stomach - would be a time traveller and had an odd connection to the Warehouse. Helena could feel it every time she was in the building. She had told the other ones, especially Artie and Claudia.

The older agent had been surprised. The Caretaker had nodded and thoughtfully looked down to the ground. When the redhead had told HG that she was suspecting Sarah to become a Caretaker, Helena hadn't been shocked, which in turn had surprised Claudia. During that undone day in Boone, Sarah had already dropped this information towards them.

Carrying a Caretaker meant that Helena could feel her daughter's emotions in the Warehouse. Sarah was mostly excited in the building. She felt home and loved, and that was good because the Victorian knew that they both, Myka and HG, wouldn't stop working there anytime soon. So the child shouldn't be afraid of their working place.

For this time of the pregnancy, Sarah was more active than Christina. And this was something Helena was mentally done with as well. As much as she appreciated the feeling of her unborn daughter inside her, she would prefer the baby to not decide that a heatwave was the perfect occasion to prepare for Olympia. Currently, Sarah was torturing her mother with kicks to the kidneys, bladder and nerves. The writer huffed in disapproval while raising an eyebrow.

"Alright, that's enough." She ranted when there was a perfectly aimed poke to her left kidney. Eagerly she rubbed her hand over the swell of her stomach. "You will learn enough kenpo when you're finally out here. So, please contain yourself while being in there."

Weakly, Claudia raised her head from her sun lounger and blinked at the Victorian. "Hm?"

"Not you." The older woman responded, continuing to rub her belly. "I was talking to Sarah."

"What did she do now?" The caretaker dropped her head back to her towel.

"She's suggesting to play football." Helena replied with a shrug.

"The British one or the American one?" Claudia's voice was muffled.

"I don't think she cares, Claudia." Again, the writer tried to concentrate on her notebook which was rewarded with another perfectly aimed kick to her bladder. "Alright, that's it.", - Helena huffed before rising from her chair. She took her feet out of the bucket of water and dried them on the towel next to it. Then she started pacing around the room, a hand carefully rubbing her stomach.

"What are you doing now?" Claudia had leaned up on her elbows and was watching HG with a genuine interest.

"I am walking around, Claudia. Sometimes, the movement makes her tired. She's extremely active today." The Victorian bobbed up and down on her toes before she turned around and continued walking.

"This must really suck." The caretaker commented before stretching out on the lounger again.

"You have no idea how much this displeases me." Helena groaned.

"I hope I'll never have any idea of how displeasing this can be." Claudia muttered. "No pregnancy for me. I also already have a really big baby called the Warehouse and the whole family around it behaves li-"

With a loud bang, the B&B's front door opened, causing Helena to spin around on her naked heels. Abigail was talking loudly, approaching the living room. "Irene?" She asked worriedly. "Is everything alright? I didn't know you were coming."

Mrs. Frederic walked into the living room, slowly, with her eyes widened. Her hair wasn't in that usual beehive but hanging losely from her shoulders. The former Caretaker looked utterly terrified.

When Irene inched closer to her, Helena took a step back, subconsciously shielding her stomach with her hands. Mrs. Frederic looked deeply into her eyes. "HG Wells has been debronzed." She declared as though it was completely new information to them.

"Mrs. Frederic?" Helena questioned cautiously, surprised. And anxious. Sarah seemed to hold her breath, too. She had become worryingly calm, had stopped kicking all of a sudden.

"Oh crap!" Claudia jumped up from her lounger and rushed into the living room. "Mrs F! Everything's alright, don't worry." She put a careful hand on the elderly woman's shoulder. "HG has been debronzed a pretty long time ago. Now she's working for us and all. You know that."

Helena backed up step by step, heart pounding heavily in her chest. The writer couldn't explain what was happening at all.

"And that's a good thing, Irene." Claudia talked on, incredibly fast, her voice cracked slightly in her throat. Carefully, she started guiding Irene to the Victorian's chair.

"Claudia." Mrs. Frederic whispered while she took her seat. "I don't feel so well."

"I know, Mrs. F." Claudia murmured softly and rubbed her shoulder. "I know. But we're here. How did you even make it into the B&B?"

Tilting her head in confusion, Helena moved closer to them, clutching her locket. Abigail was watching the scenery with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"I took a cab." The former Caretaker responded and looked mesmerisedly at Helena. She clutched her purse in her lap. "Claudia, something's wrong with me."

"Did she come into contact with an artifact?" Helena inquired quietly, watching Irene, her thumb toying with the locket. "We have to call Artie, if so."

"No one is calling Artie!" Claudia declared, her voice strict. She went down on her knees in front of the Caretaker who shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Mrs. F, you're in Leena's B&B. HG and Abigail are here with me. You're confused, but that's alright. Please calm down, we're here and we'll help you."

"I'm in the B&B?" Mrs. Frederic asked, looking like a realisation was slowly dawning inside her.

"Yeah. But everything's alright." The Caretaker assured her.

"What's going on?" Helena tried again but Claudia simply shushed her. The Victorian raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"HG Wells...?" The former Caretaker looked up at the writer.

"Is your friend and is here with us." Abigail replied carefully. HG looked at her, astonished. "We're all here and it's okay." Claudia looked up at the keeper of the Inn, they exchanged a meaningful look. "I saw the signs." Abigail stated quietly, looking down to her crossed arms. "But I didn't say anything because I thought she'd like her privacy."

"She does." The redhead nodded, looking back at Irene. "It's not that bad, yet. Sometimes, she has episodes like this, but they are mostly minor. It's getting worse, slowly. But I think that due to her old connection to the Warehouse, it's taking more time than it usually would. She's mostly really clear, so you wouldn't even suspect something and then... once in a few months,..." Slowly, Claudia rose from the ground. "Can you get her a glass of cold water, Abigail? It's really hot."

"Of course." Immediately, Abigail turned around to disappear into the kitchen.

"May I now ask what is going on?" Helena interrogated carefully, still rubbing her stomach nervously.

Claudia sighed deeply, resting her hand on the former Caretaker's shoulder. She didn't turn her head to look at the Brit. "Mrs. Frederic is suffering from a slowly increasing dementia, Agent Wells."

Helena gasped at the realisation and suddenly felt desolated. She eyed the woman on the chair, who was wrenching her hands.

"I'm tired." Mrs. Frederic murmured.

"She did tell me and the Regents some time ago." Claudia continued. "But she doesn't like to talk to anyone about it. So, now that this has happened..." The caretaker turned to glare at the raven-haired woman. "I hope you can keep a secret, because she's pretty interested in keeping this a secret as long as possible."

"But we're her family..." Helena replied with her eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, of course we are - that's what I've been telling her. But you know Mrs. F. As though she would listen to me." The redhead pursed her lips, rubbing her hands nervously. "We have to respect her wi-"

Suddenly, Irene rose her voice again. "HG Wells was _debronzed_." She said, giving her last word a special emphasis. She stood up from her chair and once again started inching closer to HG. The Victorian anxiously surveyed her and began backing away. "She's the one who left. But she's ready to face the world. People are waiting."

Helena gulped thickly.

"Irene?" Abigail asked. She had walked back into the living room and was now eyeing the former Caretaker, horrified. Mrs Frederic was approaching the writer closely, Claudia tried to hold her back by the shoulder, but failed. Helena kept backing up, afraid. She was seriously frightened by the former Caretaker. Soon she felt the living room's walls press against her shoulder blades. And then, Mrs. Frederic was so close that Helena could feel her breath on her. Carefully, without much pressure, Irene rested her hands on the Victorian's swollen stomach. If Helena wouldn't be that scared she would have actually admitted that the elderly woman's touch was gentle.

But Helena was afraid, pondering a way to get Mrs. Frederic away from her. She didn't want to hurt the former Caretaker, she really didn't.

"Mrs. F!" Claudia tried again to pull the older woman away, but Mrs. Frederic just shrugged her hand off.

"Four Caretakers in this room." Mrs Frederic growled, a hand rubbing over HG's stomach. Quickly, the writer reached up to grab the former Caretaker by the wrists. She forced her hands away using all her strength, but Irene was rather strong. Helena felt the panic rise in her chest, she was breathing heavily, heart still pounding in fear. Sarah was calm.

"The one who left before she could know." Mrs. Frederic continued, her voice unnaturally low. "The one who will forget. The one who will know. And eventually, the one who will see herself."

In this moment, at least Abigail seemed to come back to her senses. "Irene Frederic!" She shouted. The former Caretaker turned around, still grounded by HG holding her by the wrists. "Yes?" Irene asked, her voice suddenly sounding incredibly old.

"Sit down, please!" The former therapist commanded strictly. Helena let go of Irene's hands when the former Caretaker obeyed easily. Mrs Frederic sat down on her chair, clutching her purse tightly. She looked up at Helena, who stared at her in shock. "People are waiting." Irene said as though she was clarifying what she had said before. She looked again like Irene Frederic, former caretaker of Warehouse 13 and not like the confused old lady she had looked like two seconds before.

Helena was still breathing heavily. She leaned her head against the wall behind her, repeatedly swallowing and desperately trying to calm down. Her hands were wandering over her stomach, searching for a sign of her daughter. The girl was unusually calm. But then, when the flat of HG's hand pressed against a certain spot, Sarah gave her a strong poke.

Helena breathed out in relief.

* * *

_Tick tock. _The clocks in the B&B's living room were ticking awkwardly slow for Myka. She had been called to the B&B today by Claudia. What the group of Helena, Claudia and Mrs. Frederic (who had been there, to Myka's surprise) had told the curly-haired woman hadn't made any sense to her, and wasn't any clearer now. Caretaking, prophecies, the Warehouse, Sarah... Myka felt like she had joined the annual meeting of people who were connected to the Warehouse once, or were still connected, or were just in an odd relationship with it. Caretakers talking to each other like they had a clue of whatever was happening. Helena talking about "her connection" like she was talking about her newest invention.

"So what exactly are we facing here?" Myka questioned in a serious tone of voice and walked from the window over to her chair to take her seat. Helena, who was sitting next to her, reached out for her hand and then gave it a gentle squeeze. Myka squeezed back but still felt lost.

"We don't know." Claudia replied with the most ridiculous shrug Myka had ever seen._ You're the Caretaker_, _Claudia_, Myka wanted to shout. _You should know. It's your job to know things we agents don't. _The problem was the Warehouse and that it didn't want to communicate its plan to them. All that time travel Sarah had performed. A watch ticking in a certain aisle and the Warehouse trying to make sure that exactly this would happen. Or had happened. Or... was happening? _Damn time travel,_ Myka added in thought. It didn't even let her find out the correct tense to think in.

"No, that definitely sounded differently than it should have..." Claudia clarified nervously. "We know a lot. But we don't know the purpose. Or anything like that."

If the Caretaker had tried to assure Myka that she had any idea what she was talking about, she had just failed miserably. The redhead shot an anxious glimpse at Mrs. Frederic right next to her, apparently searching for help. Irene was intensively watching her hands she had folded on the table right in front of her. "You, Agent Bering and Wells, are sharing a connection with your unborn daughter.", she mentioned, sounding calm and meaningful.

"We know." Helena bowed her head in understanding. "I can feel my daughter's emotions in the Warehouse. I told you, Claudia."

"_Exactement_." Claudia agreed. Myka scrunched her nose because the Caretaker's French sounded horrible.

"Due to a watch that allows time travel." Irene continued calmly, still staring at her hands. The former Caretaker was completely clear again. Myka was struggling hard to believe she was as ill as the others had told her she was. "The three of you are connected with a powerful artifact we know nothing about because it will be produced in the future. Or won't be. We don't even know how it came into existence. And it appeared in the past and the present. An artifact that exists without time, and three woman connected to it. This is what worries us."

"Two." Myka corrected quietly.

"Hm?" Claudia looked at her in surprise.

"Two women connected to the watch. Or... let's say a woman and an unborn baby. I am not able to feel Sarah in the Warehouse like Helena is. I don't feel anything..." Myka sighed. It wasn't like she wanted to. She would actually prefer if nothing like that occurred. If Sarah would only be a normal baby... yeah... made by a tea kettle and two women... yes...

The redhead hummed in reaction and grinned a little mischievously. Then she seemed to remind herself that this situation was in fact really serious and not funny (Myka would have told her if it hadn't come back to the Caretaker's mind on its own). Claudia looked at Myka with a set facial expression. "You really think that?"

"Well..." Myka tried but then Claudia just spoke on.

"You really think you don't share a connection to that watch or your daughter just because you don't feel her?" The redhead sighed and grinned briefly at Mrs. Frederic who raised both her eyebrows. "Myka, you do know that you aren't supposed to have memories of a future where she's five years old, right?"

The curly-haired woman glared at her.

"That's your connection, Myka. Your memory of a day in the future. Don't tell me you're not connected just because you aren't Deanna Troi with your unborn daughter." Claudia sighed deeply when Mrs. Frederic and Helena looked at her in confusion. "Empathic, I mean."

"The empathy worries us, too." Mrs. Frederic cut in.

"Sarah will have a very close connection to the Warehouse in the future." Claudia added thoughtfully. "She has... well... she has sent Mrs. Frederic a message through time with the help of her guide. Basically, we assume she's in a communication with a guide, too."

"An ability only Caretakers have." Irene added with a significant emphasis.

"Like when I am talking to Leena." Claudia nodded, looking from Myka to Helena and back.

"I seem to have talked to Leena once, too." Helena mentioned, biting her lower lip. Irene and Claudia narrowed their eyes briefly in unison. To Myka, it looked like they had become one big Caretaker entity. They had already started talking like Donald Duck's nephews, finishing each other's sentences.

"Well, you are a special case." Mrs Frederic stated and surveyed HG thoroughly.

"The Warehouse lets you smell apples." The Caretaker made clear, looking at the Victorian, mimicking Irene's thorough look.

"We know what that means." Myka sighed, interrupting the thoughful silence that had hung over them. "And we know that Sarah has left the information she could become Caretaker. But, hell, can we just think about the most important fact again?"

Helena turned towards her, once more squeezing her girlfriend's hand.

"The future is not set in stone." The curly-haired woman proclaimed. "I refuse to believe that everything is planned out and that Sarah has no choice about that. She doesn't have to become Caretaker if she doesn't want to. Do I have to remind you, Claudia, that it's a choice?"

"Yeah, that's right." Claudia lowered her gaze to the table. "But the Warehouse is already reacting strongly to her."

"And even if she's supposed to become Caretaker, Myka, Claudia... Irene." Helena interjected with a slight smile on her face. "I see no problem in that as long as she wants that destiny for herself. Then let it be."

"It's her own decision." Myka insisted, raising a finger.

"But then there's still the watch and all that time travel." Claudia mentioned hesitantly.

"The Warehouse has an utter interest in this child, Agents Bering and Wells." Mrs Frederic explained, folding her hands in front of her face. "We don't know why. There seems to be more than just the caretaking. Guides... Guides have their rules. Why would the Warehouse allow her to send a message to the past? Why would it ensure that Agent Wells remembers the undone day in Boone and doesn't struggle with it?"

"Maybe it was important to the Warehouse that I'd know." The Victorian shrugged. She leaned backwards in her chair and rubbed her hand over her stomach.

Myka was sure she'd get a headache in the evening from all that caretaker and time travel talk. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, annoyed.

"But then the time trave-" Claudia started but Myka interrupted her.

"Are you two afraid of her?!" She questioned bluntly. "Because you do sound like our daughter is about to become a danger." The curly-haired woman's eyebrows darted up in surprise when she noticed Mrs. F and Claudia looking slightly caught. "Hell!" Myka exclaimed. "Mrs. Frederic, Claudia! Look at Helena! She's pregnant with a baby. A baby. That's a child. Sarah's not dangerous."

Helena's eyes had widened. She glowered at the redhead and the former Caretaker in front of her. "Sarah's not dangerous." She agreed emphatically. "Not dangerous. I'll make sure of it." Quickly, Helena squeezed her girlfriend's hand again, who rubbed her thumb over the Victorian's hand to give her some comfort.

"Only a child." Helena stated strictly.

"Yes, she is." Mrs Frederic agreed. "Without any doubt. But we don't know what all these signs are supposed to mean. After all, she'll grow up in the Warehous-"

"You're afraid of the watch." Myka concluded, shaking her head. "After all. It's not our daughter, it's the watch."

"It's a powerful artifact." Claudia looked softly at the agent in front of her. "It deals with time and memory. With memory, Myka. It gave you memories of days and hours that never existed."

"But-"

"Time and memory are two dangerous topics to deal with." The redhead continued quietly. "And that's what we're afraid of."

"'The one who left before she could know.'" Helena whispered, completely in thought. "That's me. I am rather certain that's referring to me. We don't know what Warehouse 12 had in mind for me. But we will never know." She snorted and then shook her head. "'The one who will forget.'" HG looked up to Irene. "What do you know but will forget?"

"I don't know what these lines mean, Agent Wells." Mrs. Frederic admitted with a sigh. "If I knew I would feel a lot better. I shared a connection to Warehouse 13 for about 70 years of my life. And for the Warehouse, time works differently. There could be information in my head I am not aware of."

"'The one who will know.'" Claudia shrugged, looking intrigued. "Well that sounds like I'm going to find out."

"Claudia." Myka huffed.

"What? I'm just trying to get some positive aspects out of this." The Caretaker smiled carefully. "Listen, you two. I really don't want to worry you. I really don't. Mrs. F is the one who keeps talking about danger and being afraid and whatnot. I'm just really happy about Sarah. But yeah, sudden prophecies out of nowhere sound frightening. So, the real thing we're afraid of is indeed that watch."

"Then hide it." Myka demanded. Claudia looked up at her, eyes widening. "Put it in the Dark Vault or anywhere where it can't bother us any longer." The curly-haired woman closed her eyes. She was so tired of that watch. It had ruined enough already. "I am so done with that watch. I am so damn tired of it, Claudia. I don't want it to affect my life anymore. Never again. Our life is good as it is."

"Myka." Helena drawled softly, running her fingertips over her girlfriend's knuckles. "Do you remember the last time we tried to hide a time travel artifact? The evil... Artie created found its way out nonetheless." Myka groaned at her words.

"And when the watch wasn't placed where Sarah could easily find it in the future... that day HG came back to the Warehouse... you, Myka, went all crazy timeline kaleidoscope in your head." Claudia stated, raising her hands in desperation.

"Time travel is a rather complicated topic." HG agreed, looking at Myka.

"And of course, it is your daughter who will mess with that topic." Claudia grinned at her.

"You two are talking about that like it's normal and funny." Myka ranted, pursing her lips. She knew they couldn't do anything about that. "Our daughter is not supposed to mess with... it's... she's a normal and healthy baby."

"Myka." HG addressed her again. "I really do love you, but now, it seems I should tell you the words you have once told me. Sarah's not normal. We did already talk to her before she was born. She's made by an artifact. She will grow up between Warehouse aisles. She's not normal. And sometimes I struggle admitting that, but it's alright." The writer carefully caressed her stomach. "The Warehouse is our normality." She declared, determined, but sounding at peace with it. "Sarah sent us a message through time to tell us she will be alright. And we should believe her. She'll be alright."

"Helena." Myka inched closer, looking into her girlfriend's dark eyes. She felt comforted by those words.

"We don't know what will happen in the future." HG continued, pursing her lips briefly. But then she smiled. "But that's the entire point about the future, isn't it?" She turned a little to look at Claudia. "And I am sure you, Claudia, will take care of her. Just like you are taking care of us now."

"I will." Claudia responded naturally.

"Then why are we worrying that much about the future?" Helena let out a short laughter. "The Warehouse made clear to me that we don't have to be afraid. You are here, Claudia. Myka and I are here, too. Sarah will grow up in endless love and endless wonder. All we can do, really," Helena gave her girlfriend's hand another comforting squeeze. "... all we can do is wait.

* * *

**Friendly reminder that this is in fact a fanfiction written by _me_. I don't write fluffy pregnancy fics. I write mystery and time travel. *grins brightly at you and raises both her thumbs* That fluff was just a feature. We're here for a reason, right? Any thoughts on that? Leave a review please. :)**


	16. Part 2 - Chapter 9

**Thanks to the-social-recluse for the beta.**

* * *

Nervously stepping from one foot to the other, Claudia gave the broken wristwatch in front of her a thorough look. She was standing in aisle A113, thinking about Helena's words. All they could really do was wait, yes, sure. This was nothing but a tiny watch. Yeah, an artifact, pretty powerful one, dealing with time and memory. _And time and memory are really dangerous topics to deal with, _Claudia heard Mrs. F's voice in her head and grunted loudly. The Caretaker had thought this through again and again, but she always came to the conclusion that as long as they didn't know how the artifact had come into being or in which way it was connected to Sarah or the Warehouse, they couldn't do anything but keep on living their life and make sure everything was well. And so yes... they couldn't do anything but wait. Wait for a future. And nobody had to be afraid of the Warehouse's plans, really.

It was the frakking Warehouse, it was built to do good. Now that the Warehouse had made Sarah ...in some way... Claudia didn't want to think about HG's and Myka's involvement, she really didn't want to... now that the Warehouse had made Sarah, wouldn't that mean that the girl would be good, too? The Caretaker didn't understand Mrs Frederic's second thoughts about Sarah. But she couldn't help but feel at least a tiny bit scared, because, frakking hell, the former Caretaker knew how to leave an impression on the redhead.

No. After all, the Warehouse was a good entity with the main purpose to keep the world safe from the artifacts in it. So... Everything it would plan and do had to be somehow connected to that goal - save the world, as always.

And still... Claudia kept staring at the broken watch in the shelf and then walked a little bit down the aisle to find its other version, - the non-artifact watch she had once placed on this shelf to make sure Myka would be alright. The girl had absolutely no idea how they were connected. At some point, this watch would... turn into the other watch that lay just a few metres away from it. Aaaaand, here it was: The time travel-induced headache she kept getting when thinking about this whole shitfuckery.

Claudia squeezed her eyes shut and slightly shook her head. While she did, she felt _that _pull in her stomach. She huffed when time stopped around her and the connection the Caretaker shared with the Warehouse increased. Instantly, she spun on her heels, finding Leena's face.

"Could you maybe just express what you're up to?" Claudia hissed at her guide and then passed her, drawing her gaze away from her.

Leena sighed deeply. "Hello Claudia, nice to see you, too."

"Nope, not going to have that." The Caretaker grumbled.

"Claudia." The former innkeeper pursed her lips, taking a step closer to her friend who had turned her back to her. "I can't. I can't tell you everything about the future without risking to ruin it. I am sorry."

Claudia turned around. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest and was giving the other woman a careful look. "So you're really up to something." She concluded, narrowing her eyes at Leena who clicked her tongue in reaction, rolling her eyes.

"Well, telling you differently would be a lie." She responded, looking down to her hands she had linked in front of her stomach. "But it's not the time yet to-"

"'It's not the time yet to tell you, Claudia.'" Claudia repeated, turned away again and started pacing around the aisle. "'I can't tell you yet because I am a frakking important person who is too busy to update poor, lame Claudia on recent plans.' I hate that everyone around me is speaking in riddles or leaving me in the dark. Nobody here talks properly to each other. Not Mrs. F with her goddamn dementia, not you with your stupid plans, Leena. I am so done with hearing excuses!" The Caretaker had started shouting at her last sentences. Leena looked more guilty with each word that the redhead had spat out at her. With ground-eating steps, Claudia marched around her own frozen body, curses – that would impress a sailor – flying from her mouth.

"Again." Leena murmured, not looking up. Her ears had turned red while she had listened. "I am sorry, Claudia. You won't be left in the dark forever." She sighed deeply and sounded really annoyed while doing it. "You don't even have to care about this now. You weren't supposed to worry. There is only one important thing which is that Sarah grows up in a loving environment. That she doesn't worry about her own future. Claudia... For the love of god! Stop pacing! You're making me nervous."

Claudia froze and then turned at Leena, frowning in disapproval.

"Claudia." Leena spoke on, more calmly now. "She's not even born yet, and everybody is freaking out already."

"Yeah, you didn't really do anything that would make us act differently." The Caretaker gave back, raising her hands towards the ceiling in anger.

"I'm doing now, okay?" The former keeper of the inn tried, her face softening. "Please make sure Sarah is alright. Let her have a happy and normal life –" She coughed slightly when Claudia raised an eyebrow. "For somebody who will grow up in the Warehouse. I am trying to make myself clear here, Claud, stop looking at me like this." Leena stomped with her foot on the floor, causing a thud. "There's nothing dangerous about Sarah. There will never be-"

"Gonna tell Mrs. F that immediately, Leena. But what is it then about the baby?" Claudia intervened with her face strict.

"I need her!" Leena shouted.

"For what? Is she supposed to become your Caretaker?! Will you be rejecting me?" Claudia yelled back in desperation. She had never yelled at Leena, just her guide had never yelled at her before. The Caretaker's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"We're yelling at each other." Leena shook her head, curls flying. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I really don't like that." The former B&B proprietor closed her eyes for a moment, then she considered Claudia attentively. "Of course I won't reject you, Claudia. Don't be afraid. But Claudia... I really can't tell you. It's not the time for you to know. You won't be the one I would tell."

"So you will tell-" Claudia grunted when Leena interrupted her.

"You are not supposed to worry, Claudia."

"Telling me I am not supposed to worry isn't helping, Leena." Claudia retorted, shaking her head. "Because now I am worried."

"That wasn't supposed to happen." Leena groaned. "You and Mrs Frederic are utterly annoying me. I planned everything to be good and light, to be easy for you. And now you and Irene are putting your noses into everything, being suspicious. There's nothing to be concerned about. So please, Claudia, please. Stop that. You should be happy about Sarah. She's the first child born into this family, the first of many more. It's a good thing. I gave you a little wonder, all of you."

"I am your Caretaker, Leena. Of course I am getting suspicious and worried when you refuse to talk to me." Claudia huffed, rubbing the bridge of her noise.

"I am the Warehouse, Claudia." Her guide drawled. "My intentions are good."

"You are." Claudia agreed, unsure about what to say.

"So, please trust me. Trust me when I say that you don't have to worry. I just really want everyone to be happy." Leena dropped her arms to her side and sighed while looking at the watch.

"And that's all?" Claudia asked warily.

"Of course not, Claudia. I am not lying to you." The Caretaker grunted in reaction to Leena's words. "But it's nothing you have to worry about. In a weird way, Sarah is also my daughter. I made her happen, I created her, and my daughter won't be dangerous. I am the Warehouse."

* * *

September

"And that," - Myka grinned, placing a small cake on the table she and Helena had set up in their still unfinished house. Currently, the house's walls were covered in big plastic sheets. The doors and windows were missing... the roof was missing, too, - "Makes you a 152-year-old pregnant Victorian inventor and author."

"41." Helena glared at the cake in front of her. She was really glad that there was only one candle on it and not 152 or 41. "Thank you, Myka. Did you bake that yourself?"

"Nope." Myka laughed. "Pete did. I'm not doing anything that includes sugar and an oven. But we can be sure it's edible. And I also tried the dough, finding it... yummy." Myka sat down on the plastic chair next to Helena who eyed the cake. Well, Pete made it. That would explain the missing H in the writing on the cake that read "HAPPY BIRTDAY, HG!"

The American took a long knife from the table. "You're supposed to blow out the candle." She explained. "So I can cut the cake in slices. Unless you only want me to cut it in a half, or ... you want the whole cake. I just want to have a bite or two. Seriously, your cravings are the weirdest part about your pregnancy."

Helena looked up at her and smiled fondly, her eyes a bit teary. "I love you."

Myka squinted carefully at the knife in her hand and then put it down on the table again. "Yeah, I love you, too, Helena. So... no cake?"

"Oh no." HG looked at the pastry in front of her again. "We will have cake. I'm just... a little overwhelmed."

"By a cake?" Myka questioned in disbelief.

"Uhm, Myka, not by a cake." The Victorian snorted. "By the fact that I'm sitting here, facing my upcoming last month of pregnancy with Sarah in our unfinished house. I am 41 years old, working for the Warehouse again, I have you with me... it's... " HG leaned back in her chair. "I'm just glad I am allowed to have this."

"Hm." Myka made, frowning. "Of course you are allowed to have this." She hummed, sounding surprised. Rising a bit from her chair, Myka pulled it closer to Helena and sat down on it again. Then she took her girlfriend's hand in hers. "Of course you are allowed to have this." She repeated, guiding Helena's hand across the older woman's impressively swollen stomach. "We're both allowed – no, I will put this differently. We both deserve to have this, Helena."

There was a strong poke under their hands, causing HG to smile. "She agrees."

"See? There's nothing to worry." Myka placed her own hand next to her girlfriend's, waiting for Sarah to poke against it as well. Then, she leaned in to softly kiss Helena. The wind made the plastic sheets on the walls rustle, causing both woman to break apart and look at each other, laughing.

"Autumn is coming." The writer whispered with a sigh.

"Well, one month left." The American mesmerisingly looked at her hand on Helena's stomach. She rested her forehead against the older woman's cheek, her chin on her shoulder. "And then... the real problems are going to start."

"There's still one thing left to do." Helena muttered and started massaging the younger agent's scalp with her fingertips. "Claudia and Pete are now battling each other in video games for days, thinking they could influence our decision. Before that, I witnessed an eating contest and a contest in holding their breath. By now, after they almost choked, I am quite afraid one of them will dehydrate in front of the television."

"But it's funny to watch." Myka whined. "They didn't leave the couch for days, Claudia is thriving on energy drinks and pizza Steve keeps delivering to them."

"We should tell them that their contest doesn't have any influence on our decision." Helena hummed. Myka pouted in reaction. "But it's funny to wat-"

"Pete will become Sarah's godfather." Helena stated calmly. "Claudia would have been a good choice as well, but she's the Caretaker and busy with the Warehouse. Pete, on the other hand, really likes children and is perfect for this task. He did take good care of you. I think he could also take good care of our daughter."

"It was clear from day one." Myka responded and smiled in reaction to a strong movement under her hand. "I have absolutely no idea who suggested them they could have a contest about that." Helena bit her lip, feeling caught. She silently sighed in relief when Myka leaned forwards to take up the knife again and and then say: "I am really craving cake right now, Helena. Please blow out the candle."

The wind howled through the room, doing as Myka asked. The younger woman rolled her eyes. "And now you can't make a wish! Fine!"

"Darling? I am rather uncomfortable with making wishes anyway." Helena stated, causing Myka to giggle in response. The curly-haired woman started cutting the cake.

"So I think it's a good decision." She expressed while placing the cake slices on paper plates. "We will give Sarah as much normality as possible despite the fact that nothing about us is normal."

"I think she'd agree with this." Helena stated naturally, still leaning back in her chair. She wouldn't admit that currently she was a tiny bit stuck in this plastic chair. "We won't try to hold her back from this, and we won't push her either. She'll come to us and talk, especially about the time travel. All we have to do is to make sure it's nothing abnormal for her, or something she'll feel ashamed about and afraid of to tell us."

"No time travel." Myka proclaimed strictly and then took a bite from her cake. "Oh Pete, you monster. This is delicious."

"Well." Helena uttered. "Time travel is a part of her, Myka."

"Try the cake." Myka stated, handing her girlfriend a plate.

"Alright, I shall try the cake." Carefully, Helena took a bite and then smiled while chewing. "Indeed." She admitted, bowing her head. "This tastes marvellous."

"I don't want her to know that she has basically messed up her own timeline before she's ready to deal with that." The American told the older woman, sighing deeply. "She won't grow up with this, especially not without us having any knowledge if anything like that what has caused her time travel will ever happen, Helena. This future is still uncertain."

"From our point of view." Helena interjected cautiously.

"Ah, come on, Helena Wells! I am not going to sit here discussing the possibilities of time travel during your birthday! Yes, our daughter will... has... does... or whatever tense I should use here, mess or messed with time. Yes, you can feel her in the Warehouse and I can't. Yes, there is some odd connection between us. But currently," Myka huffed and pointed at the cake. "She's not even born... so please, can we just have this cake and pretend we really care about eating cake for about five minutes?" The younger woman looked at her girlfriend, who tried hard to lean forwards in her chair but failed poorly. "Are you alright, Helena?"

"I am an elephant, darling." The Victorian grunted in annoyance. "Yes, I am alright. I'm just trying to kiss you but I am stuck in my chair!"

Myka burst out in laughter.

* * *

October

_Slowly breathing in and out, Myka pondered what to do. She was completely surrounded by darkness which she already knew after seeing it almost six years ago when she had travelled through time. A lucid dream. A dream connected to the watch she had touched back then. Myka didn't want to face this watch anymore, but it didn't change the fact that right now she was having one of those dreams again. She was tired of that watch, yet she was also curious to find out why – after six years, after all – she was having one of those dreams again._

_So she closed her eyes and opened them again. Right in front of her, another figure had appeared. It was a woman, light emerging from her body. She looked like she was glowing, typical for these dreams. The woman was old, older than Myka. She stood there, wearing a red leather jacket, jeans and a long grey scarf. She had shifted her body weight onto her left leg, it looked like she was subconsciously trying to get the weight away from her right foot. The woman's black curls were stained with a multitude of grey strains. Myka recognised her daughter's face even though it was a lot older than when she had seen it for the last time._

_"Oh no." Myka gasped, raising her hand. "This is so not happening. I'm so not talking to my daughter from the future again. This has happened far too often, - those dreams being influenced by the future. I don't want to have that anymore, I really don't."_

_To her surprise, Sarah drew her gaze away from somewhere behind Myka and looked at her mother in astonishment. "You can see me?" She questioned with her eyes widened. _

_Behind Sarah, a shadow flickered for a brief moment. Then it disappeared back into the darkness of their shared dream. "You shouldn't be able to see me." The time traveller whispered, taking a step back._

_"Why are you here then?" Myka inquired, annoyed but also curious. Sarah was using her right foot rather carefully. "Is something wrong with your foot?" The agent asked, looking at her daughter's limb with interest. _

_"No." Sarah replied, shaking her head._

_"There's a scar on your cheek." Myka noted thoughtfully, causing the other woman to groan. _

_"Listen." Sarah cut in abruptly, not paying attention to what her mother had said. "I don't know why you can see me. I didn't cause this. You shouldn't be seeing me at all. It's a memory." She clenched and unclenched her jaw, then she took a deep breath. "Maybe, it's some kind of announcement." Myka watched her daughter's face, those green eyes, the raven-black curls with the grey strains. It all was far too familiar. "An announcement?" The – technically – older woman wondered. _

_Again, Sarah looked at something behind Myka's back. The agent looked over her shoulder finding nothing but impenetrable darkness. "There is a connection we share." Sarah spoke slowly, sounding like she was deeply in thought. "Feeling my emotions in the Warehouse is one part of it. The other part might be these shared dreams, I don't know." She smiled softly before she continued. "Maybe... I am here to announce myself."_

_"What are you-" Myka was confused but her daughter didn't allow her to finish her sentence._

_"For now, all you have to know is that I am alright. You really don't need to worry, Myka." The raven-haired woman stated. "But that's not why I am here, apparently." _

_Once more, Sarah shot a glance at something behind Myka's back. "Don't you think..." She drawled and then looked deeply into her mother's eyes with her green-grey ones that reminded Myka so much of her own. "That it's rather wet?"_

_"Wet?" Myka asked, puzzled. What the- No, but she was right. The curly haired woman looked down her chest and pressed a hand against the night shirt that was stuck uncomfortably to her stomach. It was indeed slightly damp. There was a wet stain on her left side. "Where the hell is that coming from?" She blurted out, baffled._

_"Myka." Sarah's eyes softened. "Mommy..." She said and smiled, her eyes glistening. "You're not really here, you know? Currently, you're lying in your bed... and it's wet." Myka looked up at her daughter who grinned brightly. "I think you should wake up."_

_"Wha-?"_

_"Wake up, Myka." Sarah's voice whispered into Myka's ear. "Wake up."_

Immediately, Myka jolted up in bed, arms and legs entangled in the bed sheets. She had problems figuring out where she was. It was still dark as night and–

There was a loud, muffled cry from somewhere behind Myka. The curly-haired woman shook her head, coming back to her senses. It was pitch black because it was actually the middle of the night. Myka did just wake up from a dream, she shot a glance at the alarm clock on the night stand which showed 1am.

The bed was wet. Why the hell was the bed damp, warm and wet? Carefully, the American reached out a hand to find Helena's side of the bed empty, the sheets soaked. "Helena?" Myka called out loudly, shooting glimpses into the darkness just to realise that 'darkness' meant she couldn't see anything.

A loud groan, again from somewhere behind Myka. Now, the agent's head was completely clear so she has jumped out of bed. She slipped, - the floor was wet too. Myka gripped the headboard of the bed to keep herself from falling over. In the same motion, she leaned forwards to press the light switch. Squinting against the blinding light, Myka found a big wet stain on Helena's side of the bed. There were a few drops of liquid on the floor and Myka–

"Oh my god, Helena!" The brunette yelled and carefully walked towards the door of their bathroom. She pulled it open and pressed the light switch here as well.

Helena was curled up on the floor of their bathroom, holding her stomach. Her eyes were closed as though she was in pain, and the she groaned again. "Helena, your water broke!" Myka exclaimed, kneeling down next to her girlfriend. "You're in labour!"

"Oh, really?" Helena grunted, baring her teeth. Her voice was filled with sarcasm. "Well, this explains a lot. And I was wondering where that pain was coming from."

"You've got plenty of time for your sarcasm later." Myka rolled her eyes. Well, at least Helena seemed to be fine despite the pain caused by her contractions. "Now we have to get you into Dr. Calder's office."

"Yes." Helena audibly pressed air through her teeth.

"Pete!" Myka shouted loudly, hoping her partner would hear her. Her friend had spent the last nights sleeping next to the door, so he could get up quickly in a case of emergency. He had practised this quite often in the recent days. To Myka's relief, his door opened immediately. "Is-there-an-emergency-I-am-really-awake-and-braced-for-everything." She heard his voice. Then, he stomped unrhythmically into their room. And then–

"Oh shit!" Pete exclaimed before she heard him slip on the wooden floor. With a soft 'whump', he hit the ground. "Myka, there's water on your floor." Her partner grunted, voice filled with pain.

"Yes, Pete, I know." Myka looked up when Pete opened the door to the bathroom, rubbing his left knee. "Trust me, you really don't want to know what that is. Helena is in labour."

Helena groaned loudly again, a curse escaping from her lips.

"Wow." Pete looked at her, blinking. "I hope you don't want to kiss your daughter with that mouth. I am impressed!"

"Can we get Helena into Dr. Calder's office now?" Myka grumbled and tried to help Helena up from the ground.

"Yes." The Victorian agreed, reaching for the hand Pete held towards her. "Let's get out of here." She sighed when trying to get up. "To the Warehouse."

"What?!" Her girlfriend looked at her, flabbergasted. Pete pushed an arm around the writer's back and looked at both of them in surprise. "No, Helena, we will get you to Dr. Calder, just like we planned." Myka shook her head and then headed for the bedroom to get their bag.

"Well, I think Sarah disagrees on that." Helena shrugged and exchanged a look with Pete.

"What?" He asked carefully.

"This child wants to be born in the Warehouse."

* * *

Sarah watched the scenery in front of her, eyebrows furrowed. Pete and Myka slowly led a waddling Helena out of the room. Helena was breathing heavily, repeatedly groaning from the contractions she was experiencing.

The time traveller blinked when the door closed behind the trio, then asked: "Why was she able to see me?"

"What was there first?" The familiar voice behind Sarah's back interrogated in an amused undertone. "The chicken or the egg? The time traveller linked to a watch existing without time or her mothers who are also linked to that watch?"

"What?" Sarah didn't understand. She could sense the person behind her approaching, shift really close. Then, she felt a hand on her neck, rubbing the soft skin at her nape. This gesture felt familiar, too familiar. Sarah took a step forwards, away from the other person, from her guide. The voice chuckled slightly, then continued speaking.

"Parallels, darling." The voice whispered. "They are existing now and you are too."

"I thought this was a memory." Sarah stared at the bed in front of her.

"Technically it is. It's the memory of a timeline which happening now for you. But the future is happening now for you as well, it just stopped for the moment. Don't worry, you don't really have an influence on the past." A throat was cleared thoroughly. "Echos. Everything they are experiencing are echos of their connection to the watch. The emotions of an unborn daughter felt in the Warehouse. The thuds on the wooden floor heard in the building, repeating a path-"

"I don't need my cane here." Sarah disagreed.

"Wondering where that is coming from, then." The voice chuckled again. "Shared dreams are also an echo of the connection. Time is a continuum and your existence and theirs is a parallel. Your present and their present is happening in parallel to each other. You should know that, really. You travelled to their time twice."

"So what you're saying is... that it isn't the watch that is existing without time." Sarah concluded, trying to put a sense into the words she just had heard. "But that I do."

"Due to the watch I suppose." The voice responded. "I don't know much more than you. I am here to figure out as well. Warehouse 13's memories are rather unclear and I am trying to find out what we're supposed to do. I'm certain we'll see it in those memories Warehouse 13 has stored in its last breath for you. Or shall I say 'In the points of time it wants you to take a look at'? In me, your guide?"

Inhaling deeply through her nose, Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. "Well..." She murmured before breathing out. "Righty-ho, then."

And then, the images flashed through her mind again...

* * *

**End of part 2**


	17. Part 3 - Chapter 1

**Sorry for the delay. Currently, my beta reader the-social-recluse is in Russia and can't beta. So we have musingsofaraven now. Thank you very much, raven. (This is also the reason why this chapter will be in American English – and not in my usual mostly BE-ish spelling and word choice).  
**

* * *

**Part 3 : You are loved, Sarah Charlotte Bering-Wells**

**Chapter 1**

"Can't we call your mother, Paul?"

"Claudia, Myka's almost ninety years old. What could _she_ possibly do that justifies worrying her, drawing her away from her book and driving her all the way out to the Warehouse?"

"I'm worried, Julia."

"I know. I am worried as well."

Speak.

Sarah needed to speak.

"Perfect. Now that we have all expressed that we're worried about my sister, can we maybe start working on finding out what the hell is wrong with her? Aren't you something like a physician?"

"Physically, there's nothing wrong with her."

Sarah needed to speak to tell them she was alright. Paul had tried to be funny, but his sister had noticed his worried undertone.

"There's something artifact-y going on, dudes and dudettes. That's not normal."

"As somebody who has worked for the medical department of crazytown for all these years now, I have to say that 'not normal' is a thing of definition."

Sarah was unable to speak. There was a pull that was drawing her back. Back to her time line. Back to seeing what she was supposed to see.

"How long has she been unconscious, Paul?"

"A few minutes?"

A few minutes? This had felt like ages...

"I have absolutely no idea what's going on. Maybe it's connected to the watch? She's been talking a lot about the watch at home lately."

"That frakking watch. I should have never-"

"How about calling Adelaide, Claudia? Sarah kept mentioning that she's been talking to Adelaide about the watch and care taking."

Pictures.

Pictures in her mind again...

* * *

Friday, 26th of October 2018, 2 am

There was a noise at the window, a rhythmical clattering. It sounded like somebody was repeatedly knocking against the glass of the window with a pointy object. Claudia grunted and turned around in her cot in Mrs. Frederic's apartment in her retirement home. She had visited her mentor yesterday evening to chat and to make sure the former caretaker was alright. She'd fallen asleep in her chair because she had been tired from helping Pete and Steve do some online research the night before. She was sure that Mrs. F had asked the nurses to set her up a bed, but she wasn't that sure how she had gotten from the chair into the bed. She even needed a couple of seconds to adjust herself to the room she was in.

What was that?

There was a noise at the window. Somebody was knocking with a pointy object against it, judging from the noise... a pointy object like...

A beak.

The redhead sighed deeply before getting up from bed and shuffling through the room with her hands groping. Sleep deprived and lacking the caffeine to actually be in a vertical position, Claudia needed five attempts to open the window of Mrs. Frederic's living room. Blinking, the redhead looked at the window cill where Hugin was sitting. He glared at her with his black eyes, making the caretaker slightly uncomfortable. If Claudia didn't know better, she would have been sure the raven was mad at her for sleeping at Mrs. F's place and making him fly all the way out here. Even artifact birds were lazy sometimes...

Still drowsy, Claudia reached out a hand to touch the raven carefully and look into his taunting eyes. What she was seeing in them made her pull back quickly. "They are doing _what_ in the Warehouse?" She exclaimed, gazing at her bird with widened eyes.

There was a rumbling noise in Mrs. Frederic's bedroom, telling Claudia that her mentor had heard her, too. Hugin let out a quiet screech before he pushed himself into the air with the loud swoosh of his feathers.

The door to Mrs. F's bedroom opened. The former caretaker looked tired, but collected. She was wearing a yellow dressing gown which made Claudia breathe out in relief because she really didn't want to know what kind of pajamas Irene was wearing. "Claudia?" Mrs. F asked, and... yes, there was the typical indignant Irene Frederic undertone.

"HG's in labour," Claudia explained quickly, before walking over to the dinner table to grab her jacket that was hanging over one of the chairs.

"Oh!" Mrs. Frederic said in surprise. "Then we should get to Dr. Calder's office, I suppose."

"Well, actually, she's delivering in the Warehouse," the redhead clarified and then watched her mentor's eyebrows dart up in astonishment. "Yup, that's what I thought."

"You have to go there immediately, Claudia," Mrs. Frederic stated calmly. "I will just call my driver so I can be there in a few hours."

* * *

Helena was slowly waddling around Artie's room above his office. She kept stroking a hand over her stomach, counting slowly. Myka watched her with her face screwed up in empathy. Finally, HG blew out another breath, "And that was another one. I don't want to complain but I'd be glad if I could just skip this part of becoming a mother."

"I can only guess," Myka replied in a pain-filled tone of voice. "Just watching makes me want to take painkillers." The younger woman was sitting on Artie's freshly made bed. Artie wasn't using it that often anymore, since he now slept rather often at his wife's place.

"Darling, if you want to use that body swap artifact for a while..." Helena suggested with a shrug and then continued pacing.

"No thanks. As I said, I am feeling enough pain just by watching you," Myka shook her head emphatically. And it was true. The expressions crossing Helena's face during the contractions were enough for her girlfriend. Four hours had passed by since Myka had woken up to find the Victorian on the ground of their bath room. Since they had made it into the Warehouse, HG alternated between pacing around, breathing, lying in bed and yelling angrily at Myka.

Occasionally, Dr. Calder joined them, along with the Regent that was a midwife, to check on Helena's condition or listen to Sarah's heart beat, which was strong. But the girl seemed to need her time, although according to the physician, everything was going fine.

"Knock knock," Claudia entered the room over the circular stairs, presenting the mug in her hands. "I have coffee for Myka, since it's five am now... and maybe tea for HG if she-"

"Thanks, I don't need any tea. I need painkillers. A lot of them," HG ranted at her.

"And no tea for HG," Claudia gave a her a forced smile while walking over to Myka. She handed the curly-haired woman a cup. "But for... ehm... me. Yes. I am very much for tea right now. Also wasn't it you who changed the plans about giving birth in Dr. Calder's office? I mean... it's here in Univille, you know. She opened it there after marrying Artie. You should remember. We danced." The caretaker squirmed under the Victorian's glare. "What I wanted to say is that in her office, Vanessa would have been comfortable with giving you an ...what's it called? Epidural or something like that. But now that you deci-"

"It was not my decision," Helena groaned loudly before grabbing the footboard of Artie's bed. "It was Sarah's."

"Sarah _decided _you should let her pop out of your body in the Warehouse," Claudia concluded dryly.

"Claudia," Myka whispered softly and shook her head. For Myka, it was difficult to even think about the fact that in a few hours she would hold her daughter in her arms, not to mention that her daughter was announcing herself in her dreams or making decisions about where she wanted to be born. Myka was overwhelmed. So right now, all she was able to do was to sip the coffee Claudia had brought her and watch her girlfriend, whose eyes widened in reaction to another contraction coming on.

"This bloody connection between us annoys me, Claudia," Helena said through gritted teeth. Her hands were clawing the footboard harder now. "I could be sitting in Vanessa's office now and ... could see interesting colors while this little monster makes her way out of my body."

"Yeah, I don't think Vanessa would give you the painkillers that make you see colors," Claudia narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Sadly, I have absolutely no clue about medicine. I just pretended to listen to Vanessa and the midwife for a few secs before I decided it's time for more coffee and less information about perineal tears. Whatever that is, I don't want to know!"

Helena's reaction was only a loud, pain-filled groan that made Myka shudder. She placed her coffee cup on the nightstand and then shifted on bed to take her girlfriend's hand, which was a bad decision because Helena squeezed her fingers so hard that her girlfriend started fearing for her blood circulation. But she didn't care, she just stared at the Victorian and counted slowly. After HG had breathed out again, she snorted and then started laughing. Myka looked at her, worried.

"I am about to give birth," Helena stated, throwing her head back and laughing.

"Yes, exactly. That's what happening here," Myka reached out her other hand and wrapped it around her girlfriend's body to softly massage her lower back. The Victorian just shook her head, so Myka pulled back again. "You're giving birth to our daughter."

Saying this made it feel real for Myka. There would be Sarah in their life now. A child that would grow up wi-

Holy shit. She was about to become a mother. Myka gulped thickly, her eyes blinking at the realization that had just hit her like a brick.

"That's wonderful," Helena uttered, closing her eyes. "For a minute, because I will surely curse this circumstance when the next contraction's happening. This is my second childbirth so I know what's about to happen." The Victorian's eyes opened again. She grinned softly at Myka. "I apologize in advance for what I will say during the actual act."

"Will we learn some new fancy Victorian age swear words?" Claudia asked and stepped closer. "I could get my noteboo-"

The couple raised their eyebrows in unison at the caretaker. "Claudia," Myka shrugged. "You won't be anywhere near Helena during delivery."

"Oh right," Claudia shook her head quickly. "I really don't wanna see that. I am sorry, I'm just a bit struggling here." With a grunt, the redhead pointed at the ceiling. "The Warehouse is all excited and stuff and I can't differentiate between our emotions right now. Okay, who am I fooling here? I am frakking exited, too... So... Just ignore me."

"I am glad it is exciting for the both of you. I really am, Claudia," the sarcasm in Helena's voice was heavy. "But right no-"

Suddenly, the Victorian froze. Myka turned her head to look at her girlfriend when the older woman's words turned into a loud groan. And when they turned into a scream, Myka jumped up from the bed. "Vanessa!" she shouted, while supporting Helena to make sure she wouldn't fall over. Quickly, she guided the Victorian to the bed. HG was clawing her stomach and kept screaming.

And then, everything went suddenly really fast.

* * *

Embracing Helena from behind, Myka leaned against the pile of pillows that someone had set up on Artie's bed. She held Helena, her back resting against her chest, HG's head was thrown back, placed on Myka's shoulder, her petite body was perfectly pressed against Myka's, both their legs parted, and the younger woman couldn't do anything that really felt like supporting Helena.

Helena, who was breathing and shouting, curses flying from her lips. Myka breathed with her, she encouraged her. She allowed the Victorian to squeeze her hands in the times when she was screaming until she was out of breath. She let Helena's nails dig into the fabric and skin on her thigh, never knowing what to do but trying to give her at least some comfort.

Sometimes, Myka glanced at Dr. Calder and the midwife – whose name Myka didn't remember. Was it because the woman hadn't told her or because she hadn't listened? Myka wasn't sure but decided that this was a silly thought to have, right now, while the woman she loved was in pain and giving birth to their daughter. The physician and the midwife were sitting at their feet, which were covered in makeshift blue sheets. Myka had no idea what they were doing down there or where the covers came from. Everything she knew was the feeling of Helena pressed against her, trembling and quivering with every contraction.

Myka didn't know how long they stayed like this. She'd lost track of time and space and was only feeling the thumping of her own heart against her rib cage and the regularity of Helena's contractions. Neither was a good way of measuring time. Myka felt everything and nothing. Numbed by her own emotions and excitement. What she felt was Helena's body warmth pressing against her chest, her girlfriend's movements, the pain every time the older woman dug her fingernails into her hand or her thigh. The pain from that was actually the only part of this that made the whole thing real. That made the fact that they were about to have a child feel real.

So Myka welcomed the pain. She welcomed the curses Helena spat at them while she was doing the draining work to push Sarah out into this world. All the American could do was hold HG, breathe with her, and place gentle kisses on the Victorian's hair every time she had the feeling that Helena was about to go limp completely in her arms.

Myka didn't care for the curses but smiled at them. Smiled every time the writer told her that it was definitely her fault, because it had been Myka who had seduced Helena that evening. Smiled every time HG insulted the Warehouse for making decisions for them without asking. Another soft kiss on Helena's temple for ranting about time travel, one for cursing because of the bloody connection they were sharing.

Myka's hands were resting on Helena's stomach, feeling the movement right under the soft, but tensed flesh. The repeating contractions, muscles working, pushing the waiting Sarah out into this world. Sarah, who was ready to face this world. Who was ready to face them.

The world around Myka was only a muffled and blurry mix of impressions. Dr. Calder commanded Helena to breathe or to pause. Helena sucked in the air audibly with a pain filled hiss. The midwife giving Myka a comforting touch on her shoulder.

It was all muffled. And everything Myka could think was "Sarah." At some point, the midwife – Myka cursed herself again for not knowing her name – asked Helena to push. Something had changed but Myka had absolutely no idea what it was, so she buried her nose in her girlfriend's hair. It felt damp with sweat, it didn't smell as good as it usually did, but Myka didn't care. Instead she started whispering nonsense into Helena's ear, unsure if the older woman was actually listening to her. Myka didn't even understand what she was whispering. For all she knew, it could be literature quotes, the washing instructions of Helena's new pants, reciting Helena's own books, Shakespeare, Kafka, the part of the Warehouse manual that was about the dark vault... Myka didn't know, but she felt that Helena was reacting to her. The way her hand squeezed had changed.

HG pushed and Myka pushed with her, without even knowing what she was pushing. Her own sorrows away? Well, that wouldn't work, probably. Just pushing and breathing and whispering, that was it. Myka did it or Helena, accepting and welcoming the pain in her thigh and her hand when the Victorian again pressed her fingernails deeply into Myka's skin, burying her own pain in it.

And then... suddenly –

The indignant, raspy cry of a new born child facing the world. Of Sarah crying her existence right into this cold and loud world. It sounded like wonderful music to Myka's ears. She felt Helena's head dropping back onto her shoulder. The American glanced down at her girlfriend, whose eyes were closed. Helena looked exhausted, physically drained. Her pale face was stained with red spots from the effort and the struggle to bring Sarah into this world, but a weak smile curled the Victorian's lips. Myka looked up at Dr. Calder, who was holding a rosy, small bundle. Myka's world was blurring with tears while she watched the physician placing the child carefully on Helena's chest. Sarah was still crying loudly.

And this was waking Myka up, because Sarah was close to them. Sarah was crying loudly at them and Myka could hear and see her. This, what Vanessa gently covered with a blanket to keep her warm, this was Myka's daughter. She exhaled forcefully, realizing that she had been holding her breath. She looked down at Sarah, her daughter. The girl was lying there, on Helena's naked chest, real and wrapped in a blanket.

When HG reached out a hand to touch her daughter for the first time, Sarah interrupted her with a loud wail. She squeaked weakly for a few times and then, she opened her eyes to look up at her parents. It was just for a brief moment before she closed her eyes again and continued crying.

But when Myka looked into those blue eyes, she recognized them. She know the blue would soon change into this certain green with a slight tinge of grey. Her own eye color, because this was her daughter. The slight, dark shadow that was Sarah's hair would turn into long and black curls. Those lips would get fuller, like Helena's. Sarah was beautiful.

This was their daughter.

They had made a human.

And now, they were responsible for this human. Myka gulped, reaching her own hand out to touch this tiny human for the first time. Sarah felt soft and real, a little damp, but wonderful.

"Sarah," Helena whispered. Myka could barely hear her over the loud cries of their daughter.

HG covered her girlfriend's hand with her own. She winced slightly in reaction to Dr. Calder and the midwife, who were still busy between her legs, but she looked up at Myka. "She's perfect."

Myka kissed the Victorian's hair again, because she really didn't know what else to do. All she could do was stare. Stare at her daughter, the tiny human they had made.

"Okay, and that's it," Dr. Calder quickly handed something in a bowl to the midwife. It was covered in one of those blue sheets so Myka couldn't see it. "Myka," Vanessa asked with a fond smile. "Do you want to cut the cord?"

"What?" The curly-haired agent looked at her in surprise, finding the physician reaching for a pair of scissors. Slowly, Vanessa stood up and approached them. Then, she turned Sarah carefully around to secure the cord which was still linked to the girl's stomach.

Suddenly, Myka was holding that pair of scissors. Myka had held and used scissors before in her life, so she was sure they shouldn't feel so unusual, but… With her hands shaking slightly, Myka followed Vanessa's instructions to cut the white band that had once connected Helena and Sarah. For some, unknown reason, Myka almost expected it to spark (which it didn't do, naturally).

"Alright," Dr. Calder nodded proudly, taking the scissors back again. Myka stared at her own hand and then at her daughter again, dumbstruck. The midwife was quickly walking out of the room, holding the bowl in her hands. "Then I'll be the first one," Vanessa continued, "to congratulate you two on your healthy daughter."

* * *

Myka still didn't know what time it was. She didn't care that much about the time either. Everything she cared for, right now, was their daughter. They had a daughter.

Sarah Charlotte Bering-Wells was 20 inches long, that made her 52 cm. She was weighing a little over 7 pounds or 3200 grams. Sarah had ten fingers and ten toes. She was born in the early morning of the 26th of October 2018. And currently, she was wearing her very first onesie and a tiny yellow cotton hat. And she was resting on Myka's stomach.

Literally resting, because that baby was exhausted. She was sleeping there, on her mother's stomach, wrapped in her tiny blanket. Everything about Sarah was tiny.

Myka was lying on her back on Artie's bed and Helena lay snuggled against her side. HG hadn't taken her eyes from her daughter yet, just kept staring at her, completely in awe. She looked tired, though, there were shadows around her eyes, she was still pale and her hair was damp. But Helena didn't make any attempt to sleep. Instead, she reached out her hand again to run her fingertips lightly over her daughter's side.

"I can't believe it," she whispered, breathlessly. Myka looked at the woman she loved. "Nine months of waiting," she agreed. "And finally..."

Weakly, Helena shook her head. "No," she breathed, her hand still caressing her daughter's side. "Not nine months... 152 years, Myka. And a major part of them waiting in doubt, hate, in war, fighting, recovering, tip-toeing around you, loving you... everything. To face her... To be ready for her her... for... for a second try? I don't know."

"Helena," Myka's face softened but she didn't know what to say. She just wanted to comfort her girlfriend.

"I love her, Myka." Helena sounded like she was stating the most natural thing in the world. And actually, she was... but still, Myka understood what Helena really meant. Loving someone that naturally, that earnestly, after everything that had happened... it must mean so much to Helena. "I just _love_ her. I look at her... there... the way she's lying on your stomach... and I love her."

The corners of the American's lips shook a little, before they curled up to a smile. Sarah opened her eyes again, looking back at Helena, who sat up slowly, and a bit clumsy to pick her daughter up from Myka's stomach. She supported the girl's head, rested the child in her own arms and then pressed a gentle kiss on the girl's cheek. "I love you," Helena whispered. "You are loved, Sarah Charlotte Bering-Wells. You are in a world full of endless love and endless wonder. And sometimes... yes, sometimes, this world can be frightening and I am certain it will make you angry rather often, but you are loved. We are here to love and protect you. And we will make sure you are alright. You _will_ be alright."


End file.
